Pelican 2016 (87) Edition 1

1929 since

CAM PUS MA P! (the onl yo ne yo u’l ln ee d)

GRIEF CONTROL FOR MAJOR

BETTY BLURST:

CALLING CHICKEN

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ON CHICKEN TREAT

SHIT PITCHFORK DIDN'T TELL YOU

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Student Banking

Join1 today and to say thanks we’ll put $202 into your account.

Visit our marquee at UWA O-day on 26 February to find out more!

Our student banking has been developed especially with you in mind, incorporating a range of products designed to help you during this exciting time in your life. Join the Bank today and we’ll look after you when you need it the most, now and in the future.

Apply1 today unibank.com.au or 1800 864 864 UniBank is a division of Teachers Mutual Bank Limited ABN 30 087 650 459 AFSL/Australian Credit Licence 238981.

1. Membership eligibility applies to join the Bank. Membership is open to citizens or permanent residents of Australia who are current or retired employees, students and graduates of Australian Universities, or family members of existing members of the Bank. This banking package is available to you if you are a current full time student at any Australian University, and may be withdrawn at any time. Conditions of use – Accounts and access document and Fees and charges brochures are available online or from any of our offices. You should read both of these documents before deciding to open accounts and access facilities issued by Teachers Mutual Bank Limited. Any advice provided here does not take into consideration your objectives, financial situation, or needs, which you should consider before acting on any recommendations. For further information call 1800 864 864 or go to unibank.com.au 2. The Bank will credit an initial $20 into your Everyday account once opened. An additional $20 will be credited into the Everyday account when you make a purchase with your UniBank Visa Debit Card within 28 days of opening your membership. UniBank is a division of Teachers Mutual Bank Limited ABN 30 087 650 459 AFSL/Australian Credit Licence 238981 | 00955-MAR-UB-0216

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PREZITO RIAL

MA DDIE M U L H OL L A N D

Welcome to a new year at UWA. I’m Maddie – long time student, but fresh to being your 103rd Guild President. I love feeling fresh. The feeling of waking up after a good sleep, having a cold shower, listening to So Fresh Hits of ’06, deodorant that works properly. The Guild is your fresh hit of excitement and support for your time at uni.

Whether you’re fresh faced or returning to uni, there is always something fresh to fill your non-study time. Picture your weeks around the Guild Village hanging in the fresh new Club Collaboration Zone because you’ve gotten involved with a fun fresh club or are hitting up a fresh party, eating fresh Subway subs and drinking fresh Boost juices outlets in the Ref, trying out fresh volunteering opportunities and checking out the fresh new Tavern. Sounds fresh to me. Just like the Fresh Prince getting into in the Bel Air life, why not try something new and get involved in our numerous and diverse clubs, collectives and volunteering opportunities!

The Guild is also the peak representative body for student issues and concerns. We know you’ll have not so fresh times, when you’ll need to balance a large number of pressures like work, study and finances all at the same time. Sometimes that squeezes the freshness out of you, so we have Student Assist case officers to support you through tough times. If you ever feel a little off, we’re here to help with interest free loans, financial counselling and academic support. If you’re not sure where to start, drop into the Guild Student Centre where they can answer all your questions (and pick up your fresh Guild diary while you’re at it).

Remember, you only get so long to get the most out of uni before you’ll be off on a fresh new career adventure (or another degree, we’ll see how the job market is going). So refresh your new year with fresh extra-curricular activities and fresh friends and always remember the Guild is here for you! x Maddie

H AY T O RIA L

H AY D E N DA L Z I EL

The whole reason I’m here is because of a demo copy of Age of Empires I got in 2001, when a six-year-old me discovered the joys of small men in blue pants and an isometric perspective. I drew them – so many small men in blue pants, all so angry with the small men in red pants. In my drawings they became strange and angular, their joints became sharp and their forearms stuck out at right angles.

But I got there in the end, I drew them with more and more detail until eventually they even had small, diamond-shaped man-buns, pointy noses and eye-slits.

Somewhere in between then and now I gained the art skills required to start drawing Pelican covers and here we are.

Where are we? In a luxurious airconditioned office with only a small wasp problem, trying to get a first edition finished in time for O-Day. Maybe you’re reading this on O-Day right now. How’s the heat? Have you signed up for the young libs? Zoology club sure has a fun stall don’t they. I digress.

I’m starting this year a little more optimistic. It’s true we’re at a uni with a sinking reputation, a bloody weird ad campaign and cuts everywhere you can point a stick. But 5 hours ago I found out we have the highest number of indigenous med students in Australia, which is pretty great. There’s small things about this uni that are genuinely wonderful, entirely the result of courageous individuals and small groups who work despite shrinking budgets and lack of support.

But I am starting to miss those days when I was happiest drawing those tiny ancient people, and I could just draw little lists of various small men in blue pants. x Hay

P R E N D IT OR IA L

KAT E PRE NDE RGA S T

Late last year, the new final series of Peep Show dropped. Starring David Mitchell’s poached egg face as Mark Corrigan, and Robert Webb’s 4:20 Ron Weasley face as Jez, it’s a show about two petty and vindictive flatmates, who are cemented in their relationship by the most pathetic and undermining love-force imaginable. For reasons unknown, I decided to watch the entire box set, from series one to series nine.

Drinking long from the bitter pool, I noticed on the fringes of my perception a change. I had begun thinking in Corrigan’s fusty snark, practicing the ‘velvet spoon routine’, adopting Mark’s motto: ‘dreams crumble to dust’.

It was a close thing. What saved me? I’ll tell you what saved me. Jesus. Maybe, I don’t know, probably not. It was actually art. I started drawing caricatures of protagonists while I was watching the show, and somehow, all that lovely bile transfused itself into something more controlled, less soul-corrosive.

When things are bleak, take action. The licence to be intelligently generative whether you’re drawing Shorten as a pillar of damp shortbread, or speaking truth to power like a noble badass – is at the core of Pelican. It’s what pulled me in from the first.

Like John Hughes if he ever opened a GoKart arena in the Perth Cultural Centre, UWA is at a weird and precarious juncture right now. Many things are afoot, and many more things still are underfoot. Not to be combative (I think too many years thumbing ‘A’ on Pokemon Gold instilled a ‘run, capture or kill’ mentality I’m working to subdue), but there are right now many battles to pick. When it comes to fighting, Pelican’s weapon is language. But when it comes to loving, we’ve also got language.

It’s basically everything.

I cannot wait to meet, read and experience all of you who want to contribute. Get keen 2016! I dream of a flippin’ awesome year for Pelican, and I no longer believe Corrigan to be right. x Prendy

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THE talent EDITORS

CONTRIBUTORS

Hayden Dalziel

Ashleigh Angus *

Holly Munt ᵒ

Prema Arasu ᵒ

Kate Prendergast

Ben Yaxley *ᵒ

Jade Newton ᵒ

Skevos Karpathakis ᵒ

Bridget Rumball ᵒ

Jessica Cockerill *ᵒ

Tinashe Jakwa ᵒ

Carin Chan ᵒ

Laurent Shervington ᵒ

POLITICS Bradley Griffin

Caroline Stafford ᵒ

Leah Roberts ᵒ

FILM Jaymes Durante

Cat Pagani *

Madison Brooks *

MUSIC Harry Manson

Chadley Griffin ᵒ

Madison Janissaire ᵒ

BOOKS Bryce Newton

Clara Seigla *

Mark Brandon ᵒ

ARTS Samuel J. Cox

Danyon Burge *

Matt Green ᵒ

LIFESTYLE Thomas Rossiter

Dea Defendi *

Matt Norman *

Elysia Galavis *

Natalie Thompson *

Gabriella Loo *

Nathan Shaw ᵒ

COVER Jessica Cockerill

Harry Peters Sanderson ᵒ

Nick Mortlet ᵒ

INSIDE Danyon Burges

Holly Jian *

Olivia Tartaglia *ᵒ

SECTION EDITORS

FEATURE ART

offer applies to large pizzas only

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ᵒ Words

* Illustrations

INSIDE

PELICAN EDITION 1 : VOLUME 87 FRESH REGULARS Editor’s Notes

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Campus News

4

Pet Peeves

7

Is Green, Is Good

21

Past Calling

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FEATURES Musings From (Relative) Sobriety

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Tomorrows and Yesterdays

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Fresh : A Pumpkin Patch History

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Fresh To Death

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Betty Blurst

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African Student’s Union Re-Launch

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Bad News Bus

17

Words with Tomás Ford

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Class and the Body

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SECTIONS Politics

22

Film

26

Music

30

Books

34

Arts

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Lifestyle 42

The University of Western Australia acknowledges that its campus is situated on Noongar land, and that Noongar people remain the spiritual and cultural custodians of their land, and continue to practice their values, languages, beliefs and knowledge.

The views expressed within are not the opinions of the UWA Student Guild or Pelican editorial staff, but of the individual writers and artists.

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SPOTLIGHT ON CAMPUS SPOT W H AT ?

The Pelican Office.

WHERE? Nestled right above the Guild Ref, you can get to the Pelican office by crossing the threshold of a heavy wooden door (see image), which unhelpfully still has ‘Guild Catering’ etched into the glass. Strange and waterdamaged butterfly men, beached whales and Thatcherhellions – drawings from editorships past – will guide you two flights of stairs on your journey upwards. The destination is a lofty alcove of chaos, with welcoming vibes and dank charm, where from 10am-5pm weekdays you will find one or both of the Pelican Editors lounging on the plush sofas, imbibing litres of semi-flat coke, and wondering whether they probably own too many hats.

Along with their trusty and attractive team of subeditors, you can join them as they get on the heels of the next hot story, deface politicians on Photoshop, tend to their cacti, or debate whether spending twelve years pretending to be a child’s rat did anything a bit wrong to Timothy Spall. They also enjoy a good chat.

W H Y WO U L D YO U ?

Why wouldn’t you? Give us one good reason. Then visit us and tell us that reason.

EXPOSED: 300 STAFF CUTS ORIGINALLY 30 - PAUL JOHNSON TOO EMBARRASSED TO ADMIT TECHNICAL ERROR

Pelican Fashion & Style

Email exchanges between Paul Johnson and his secretary have revealed that the UWA Vice Chancellor had originally planned to cut just 30 staff jobs by the end of 2016 instead of the 300 as announced.

Yet rather than admit error and redress the mistype, Johnson decided to just go ahead and lay 270 more heads on the chopping block.

“Yes, I did think 300 was a bit much,” confessed secretary Beatrice Twig, who broke her silence on the matter on Tuesday after being approached by Pelican reporters, saying she was suffering from “unbearable guilt.” Independent investigations have confirmed Ms Twig will be among the first to be off the payroll in February.

“You see, I hadn’t had any coffee that day, and – not to point the finger too much – but Paul had also sat on my glasses. I’m as blind as a bat without them. So, when I saw three-double-oh, three-doubleoh is what I wrote in the email. It was sent to all of UWA staff, and the papers too. That extra zero turned out to be a bit of muffin icing, by the way.

“About a minute after I sent it, Paul stormed in and started yelling.

‘Three hundred! Three hundred is ludicrous! It’s downright barbaric!

Bloody hell! Where am I going to find the human resources now?

We’ll be stretched thin! Thinner than a steam-pressed spider’s web!

I don’t have an army of robots! I don’t command a militia of unpaid automatons! I’m not Superman! I don’t have nice red underpants! You silly, silly girl! Give me back that muffin I bought you!’”

UWA staff will convene on February 30 in The Tav to plan a mutiny.

They have said they are “very, very angry.”

Pelican was unable to contact the Vice Chancellor for comment.

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PERTH FACT GUILD SPINACH AND RICOTTA ROLLS ARE THE ONLY REASON I'M ALIVE

Bucky Buckaroo the wallaroo and Pancho the goat – creatures owned by Dallas-bred 90s rapper Robert Van Winkle, aka Vanilla Ice – respond to readers’ quibbles, concerns, and late night, five-$2-cornettoes-later grievances on the controversial subject of ‘Fresh’.

Hi Bucky, I’m trying to turn over a fresh leaf this year, but when I do, the other side of the leaf looks just the same. Why should I bother.

Worried in Willetton, Jane De Plane Hey Jane, We first met Van when he was in a really bad place. His SBK label had fucked him over by releasing a false autobiography without even telling him, he had just done some lame-ass cameo in the amateurishly violent film Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret Of The Ooze (which was nonetheless a box-office success in 1991), and later he attempted suicide

by OD’ing on heroin. The darkest of times for Ice. But he tried to turn his life around. He got a tattoo of a leaf on his stomach, got interested in realestate, met his future wife, started up an extreme sports store, and became the world’s No. 6 at sit-down Jet Ski racing. Lately he’s been seen on the DIY Network, installing pools with glow-in-the-dark tiles in the backyards of Palm Beach mansions.

If you have a problem, you have to solve it. Don’t rely on rappers or DJs, they have their own issues.

Love, Pancho

Hello Pancho, I am dank and juicy chaos. What am I?

Yours, Dank and juicy chaos Hi Hot Pants, Bucky here (Pancho has gone to Maccas for chips). First up dude, like, what turns you on, turns you on okay, but remember that the eyelids up, eyelids down, eyelids up, eyelids down thing and the suggestive licking of the lips doesn’t always mean a lady’s into you.

She just might have an eye infection and no immediate access to chapstick. I can make no comment on your outfit: you do you.

Your fashion choices disgust me, Bucky

Buck, This is your father. Come home son. Your mother misses you. We’re sorry we told you dropping rhymes would turn your legs into limp celery sticks.

Please tell us you are not doing marijuana with that Cream Frost trash, or whatever the hell his name is.

Hopping sad, Buck Snr. Yeah, dad, stop writing.

Let me be. You told me to bounce, and I fucking bounced, didn’t I? With my strong, robust legs. Oh and, hey dad. Guess what time it is. It’s 4:20 dad. It’s always 4:20 where Vanilla Ice is.

YOUR POWER-THIGHED SON / ALWAYS ON THE RUN / CLOCK ME BOUNCE HAVIN’ FUN / I AM SOOO FUCKING DONE

Questions 1. Whose bones are buried under the ref?

4. What geological era followed the Holocene?

2. Who is only centimetres behind your head at any given time, watching and waiting in a cold silence?

5. What does Midori mix well with?

6. Are you a bad person?

3. Who makes the Steamed Buns of guild catering fame?

answers 1. Why it is The Man of Shells, whose shells give us life. 2. It is the enemy of The Man of Shells, the Level Sponge, whose absorptive flesh will rewrite time and space. 3. It is again our friend The Man of Shells, he makes them with Spells. 4. The time of Sponging. 5. Guild Steam Buns, squeezed between shells. 6.

Everyone has good and bad qualities, meaning our binary understanding of personal morality is flawed.

PERTH FACT WE FIND MOST OF OUR WORDS AT IKEA

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MUSINGS FROM (RELATIVE SOBRIETY) WORDS BY BRIDGET RUMBALL ART BY CATHERINE PAGANI

"Hey, why aren’t you drinking tonight?"

It’s the usual story for a Saturday night- out the back of my friend’s house, lingering around the haphazardly constructed beer pong table and the leaking esky. I have to think of an excuse that doesn’t make me sound like the lemonade-toting six year old that I probably look like to the rest of the party.

"I’m sorry, I’m driving everyone home."

The friend nods sympathetically, before adding: "Maybe next time?"

differ. It’s a mixture of social anxiety and hyperawareness am I fundamentally fucking over Australia’s essence by staying sober?

Are all of my friends secretly judging me for downing my seventh Diet Coke? Can they see through every excuse – every “I’m driving”, “I’m on antibiotics” or “I’m allergic” that I shouldn’t

am I fundamentally fucking over Australia’s essence by staying sober?

Yeah, maybe next time.

Confession: I’ve never been drunk before. I’m usually game for one or two shots, and have been on the tamer side of tipsy a few times, but have never arrived at the catalyst where vision goes fuzzy and memory starts to fail. I’ve watched my friends blackout time and time again; have held their hair as they vomit down toilets, guided them into taxis and stopped them from calling their exes at 2.30am. I never ever judge, and I have my reasons; I have a family history of drinking and health problems, hate the taste, and am a neurotic, protective perfectionist with first aid training that couldn’t live with themselves if (on the rare occasion) something went wrong. I actively choose not to excessively drink – but I can’t help but feel like I’m a bit of a cultural and social abnormality in doing so.

So much of Australian culture intertwines with the concept of drunkenness. Arguably, this can be traced right back to our colonial-perspective ‘origins’ as a prison colony, with British settlers carrying their heavy drinking practices across the seas.

Our per head consumption of alcohol sat at about 14 litres a person for almost a century until the Great Depression, until it re-peaked at 12 litres in recent years. This has been due mostly to a spike in binge drinking over the past two decades, with more people of all ages taking ‘casual drinks’ to dangerous (and often violent) extremes. Consequently, drinking heavily has become something of a social rite of passage. Starting young, you have plenty of years to build up resistance/hit your peak – weekend parties, GT ball afters, Rottnest Leavers and virtually every 18th involved at least one poorly paced teenager blacking out.

This ‘drunk larrikin’ is a stereotype that our nation is essentially proud of, and it’s a stereotype that I feel like I don’t belong to. The jury is still out as to whether this makes me any less Australian, and in the grand scheme of things, not enjoying drinking is a complete first world problem. However the weird sense of guilt that accompanies every declined drink begs to

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have to make up, but that Australia’s all-encompassing booze culture pressures me into?

Of course, this stereotype isn’t just contained within Australia.

It seems everyone in the world equates ‘Australia’ with ‘drunkard kangaroo-riders and emu-huggers.’ The perfect example is an Australian backpacker, who was recently denied accommodation in Scotland, of all places – simply because of the widespread perpetuation of this niche part of Australian culture, and our reputation of continually recreating the stereotype overseas. The landlord of the 400 pound-a-month flat the backpacker wished to rent rejected her deposit, simply stating that Australians “were drunks and racists”. It’s the same in America, where I’m currently interning and where the drinking age is infamously 21, not 18. I legally can’t buy a drink out (a fakey didn’t even cross my mind), yet every single work colleague has boxed me into the ‘Crocodile Dundee/Khe Sahn/ drunk bogan’ stereotype. Fuck, Australians can’t even travel to another continent without some of our piss-up legacy following us? It seems that my personality is destined to be constantly defined by parts of my hometown culture that I’ve chosen to not associate with. I feel like the Last Unicorn of sobriety – the only Australian in the world who hasn’t ever been plastered.

One of the positives of not drinking heavily, however, is simply observing. Every drunk person has a personality that erupts out of them when they have one too many; criers, dancers, drunkdiallers, philosophers. Everyone has a duality to them which is insanely fun to document, and even more hilarious to re-watch in the hangover-tinged hours of the next morning. Who knows – maybe I’ll eventually cave, get absolutely wrecked and find out what I’ve been missing out on. Until then, I’m somewhat happy to stay arguably ‘un-Australian’ and, un-judgementally, alcohol free.

PERTH FACT GUILD SPINACH AND RICOTTA ROLLS ARE THE ONLY REASON I'M ALIVE

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TOMORROWS AND YESTERDAYS WORDS BY JAMES DURANTE IMAGE BY GABRIELLA LOO

David Bowie is dead. That’s more than just sad – that’s a paradigm shift. In the brief moment since the sudden and shocking but undoubtedly calculated announcement of his death, we’ve been forced to recalibrate his career as a ‘legacy’, and to reckon with the transience of genius. Jaymes Durante writes about a blackstar and the dust he left behind.

W

hen it came out on January 8th, Blackstar was a joyous reawakening; a sizzling, mellifluous jam album that highlighted the intricacy of David Bowie’s penmanship and his rebelliously exploratory nature. “Who the fuck’s gonna mess with me?”, he sings, before dipping back into wails of coded Nadsat. Two days later he was dead, and the album instantly metamorphosed into a sibylline coda veiled in the kind of portent and mystical grandeur Bowie epitomized.

It was a mordant parting gift – a baroque skull resting on a saxophone, his very first instrument, and now the centerpiece of his very last album.

Bowie was no stranger to theatrical deaths. On July 5th 1973 at the Hammersmith Odeon in London, at the peak of Ziggy Stardust’s cultural prowess, he took to the stage, announced the band’s last ever gig, sang “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” and retired the persona forever. You can see it for real in documentarian D.A. Pennebaker’s filmed record of that show, but in Todd Haynes Velvet Goldmine this iconic moment is reimagined as a brutal assassination hoax – a disappearance – because that’s exactly what it seemed.

But he never died, he just transformed. With each transition, meticulously executed, Bowie added another layer to the palimpsest that is his musical identity – self-reflexive and postmodern, constantly calling back to itself. On Blackstar’s final track “I Can’t Give Everything Away”, Bowie howls, “I’m dying to”, leaving the sentence portentously hanging while a yearning harmonica cheekily quotes 1977 Low track “A New Career in a New Town”, laughing in death’s face as it consumes him.

Of all his elegant fatalities, his last was the most gorgeously spectacular. Like the distantly burned-out star of his album’s title that seemed to stump out the glittering motif that signposted his career, it happened before we had the sagacity to figure out that it was over.

•••

In the nine years between 1971 and 1980 – encapsulating Hunky Dory, The Rise & Fall of Ziggy Stardust & the Spiders from Mars, Aladdin Sane, Diamond Dogs, Young Americans, Station to Station, Low, Heroes, Lodger and Scary Monsters & Super Creeps – David Bowie released the most brilliant streak of albums in the history of popular music. He truncated four whole careers

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into a single era, changing masks and morphologies along the way like a far-sighted visionary, up ahead with the forefathers, sometimes ahead of them.

Every change he made was an affront to the intransigent stars of his time, some of whom are still wading in a quagmire of sad glam, putting on the makeup and playing the hits to half-sold houses of despo middle-agers. That same chameleonic nature that made him seem immortal was also a frantic race against time. Reflexively, the changing Bowie reveals a discomfort with roots and permanence. Bowie’s identity was anxious, constantly in flux in defiance of mortality, but aware of it too. Of all his elegant fatalities, his last was the most gorgeously spectacular.

Of all his elegant fatalities, his last was the most spectacular My favourite Bowie period falls somewhere in the middle of that one glorious decade, after he’d killed off Ziggy but before he’d retreated into Berlin with Brian Eno to remedy his all-consuming drug habit (and to casually introduce the English-speaking world to electronic music). It’s Bowie at his most louche, the epitome of cool. Gaunt, sleekly dressed, and sporting a coiffed two-tone orange hairdo – you could almost cry.

You can see that version of Bowie in the documentary Cracked Actor, where he sits in the back of a limo, a husk of a man singing along to Aretha’s “Natural Woman” and sucking on a carton of milk (allegedly the only solids his cocaine-addled body could process). “There’s a fly floating around in my milk”, he says. “He’s a foreign body in it, you see, and he’s getting a lot of milk. That’s how I feel.”

It’s a weird statement that seems to downplay his own enormous trend-setting authority whilst also acknowledging the countless cultural influences he absorbed and employed with reckless abandon in his own work. Bowie was alert to art at the borderlines of pop and avant-garde, but he’d never outright pilfer or appropriate. Bowie – always at the crossroads of himself and the world around him – collaborated. Mapping his connections, not only with musicians but also with filmmakers, designers, photographers, artists, stars and socialites, is like mapping out the whole of 20th century culture, and his willingness to listen and learn put him at the centre of it all.

The list of musical artists he inspired or merely bolstered is immense. Scratch the surface and you get Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, Luther Vandross, Arcade Fire, Suede, The Cure, Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, Lady Gaga, Placebo, the Pixies, LCD

PERTH FACT FREO PSYCH BROS HAVE KEVIN PARKER TATTOOED ON THEIR DICKS

Soundsystem, Nirvana, Pulp, Joy Division, Boy George, Nirvana, Depeche Mode, Madonna and The Smiths. Plumbing the depths of his influence is nigh on unreasonable.

•••

I first encountered Bowie through a dusty best of (maybe ChangesOneBowie?) wedged somewhere between the Cold Chisel and Simply Red in my parents’ CD tower. I remember hearing “Life on Mars?” and thinking about the singularity of his voice – how it was confident, somewhat strained, insolent against its own limitations. It seemed to stretch and reverberate over the low notes before it tore through into fever-pitch melodrama.

For me, like a good many weird teens discovering Bowie for the first time, this encounter quickly developed into an insatiable obsession. It felt like a secret passion. Secret because of what Bowie represented – the “turn to face the strange”, even if, at the time, I couldn’t quite comprehend what Bowie’s strangeness really meant.

It was shocking to later learn that my Dad, who spent his own youth skipping school to smoke behind the footy club shed in a Chesty Bonds, the outdoorsman to my bookish type, loved Bowie too, and had all of his records at the ready to pass on to me.

Thinking of Bowie as an outcast idol, as I did for those few brief years, is lovely and romantic, but it ultimately undermines the subversiveness of his image and material, the way he dressed krautrock and queerness and post-colonialist afrobeat in a

explorer with the body of a Pre-Raphaelite androgyne, the brain of Oscar Wilde, and the cocky sex appeal (and bulge) of Robert Plant. They think Bowie has ascended to the stars, returned to his home planet.

Neither of these reminiscences is particularly fair to Bowie, who described the former period as his artistic nadir and the latter as a whole lot of silliness. They fail to account for his artistic peak, that great stretch of albums from Young Americans to Scary Monsters, nor do they consider the failures of his later output (and the rare high spots), or his last years of touring, where he somewhat perfunctorily dragged out the hits before a heart attack saved him from the sad fate that befell his one-time contemporaries.

Of course, there’s no right or wrong way to think about Bowie – unless you’re of the specious mind to think of him as inhuman altogether. Bowie was a master cryptographer; his lyrics seem to administer interpretation, and their (and his) pliability was and is a great gift (and help) to his listeners. But abstracting Bowie into ‘spaceman’ or ‘pop star’ is turning his suppleness against him. (“I’m not a pop star”, he sings on Blackstar’s title track.)

Bowie is difficult and multifaceted – the shock of his passing at times feels like a culmination of our refusal to consider Bowie properly all along. When you listen to Tin Machine, or watch him hamming it up on talk shows in the early Noughties, or learn that he died, Bowie’s virtuosity seems finite. It seems banal.

That’s because genius isn’t infallible, and it isn’t immortal.

Coming to terms with Bowie’s near-incalculable impact might seem impossible, but it’s a task better undertaken than just left to the stars.

Bowie was for everyone – a hyperlink for the curious into strange planets that orbited the mainstream palatable façade that appealed to the whole pop market. Bowie was for everyone – a hyperlink for the curious into strange planets that orbited the mainstream. He could ply that curiosity from anyone, and more liberating than claiming Bowie as your own was sharing him with the most implausible of persons.

•••

Considering his inestimable personal and cultural impact, the task of collectively restructuring Bowie’s career into something that resembles an adequate legacy becomes difficult and quite complex. Some recent remembrances, although fond, are instructive of a popular and perhaps generational idea of artistic genius that fails to consider its reality.

Some choose to remember Bowie as the high priest of High Camp, sauntering about as the Goblin King of Labyrinth, or preaching “church on time” to the masses in a baby blue suit and a wiry, voluminous bouffant of peroxide-white hair. Others verge on the ridiculous with claims of mystic origin. Bowie, to them, was a visitor from a faraway planet who dropped in briefly to shake up the zeitgeist – an immortal, genderfluid space

PERTH FACT THE PLAGUE RATS THAT CARRIED THE BLACK DEATH WERE ALSO BLUR FANS BUT NOW SHUN DAMON ALBARN’S SOLO WORK

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FRESH TO DEATH WORDS BY MARK BRANDON

I’m not going to lie: I’m a writer, not an artist. But when it comes to the realm of creativity, I think there is crossover between the two - crossover enough for me to talk with some confidence about the nature of ideas; what it means to create something fresh and new.

We live in an age where creativity is cheap. Partly because it is easier for a person now to pick up a pen, brush, or stylus and make art, and partly because with so many people alive it’s not hard to find someone with artistic talent.

However, from an early age it’s drilled into us that art must be unique; that originality is key. We’re told that what you produce must be striking, something the world has never seen before, something that’s going to knock the socks off anyone who lays eyes upon it.

At least, that’s how it feels.

But when did we put originality on the pedestal, and how true is it that something needs to be original to be good or great?

What is it that draws us to unique ideas in the first place?

To answer this, let’s bring the discussion back to something more tangible.

Imagine that for breakfast this morning you ate a bowl of WeetBix - four biscuits drowned in full-cream milk. It would likely fill you up, and if you added a teaspoon of sugar, it might even taste good too.

But imagine eating that for breakfast every morning of every day of every week in the year. How long would it take before you detested Weet-Bix, sugar or no? How long before you moved beyond that into apathy?

Now imagine that instead of Weet-Bix I offered you a bowl of berry yoghurt with fresh wildberries stirred in and sliced strawberry on top.

That sense of joy, of discovery, of breaking the trend and discovering something delicious and new?

That’s originality. It’s easy to see how it would become intoxicating.

Eventually, the wildberry strawberry yoghurt surprise would go the same way as the Weet-Bix. Oh, you’d probably enjoy it, it’s jam-packed with sugar. But you’d never achieve that same joy of discovery - not with the yoghurt, at least.

So, to pursue the pleasure of originality - and to wear the metaphor thin - you’d have to keep discovering and varying your diet. And for every new discovery, you deplete the pool of fresh flavours left available to you.

Of course, there’s a big difference between breakfast and art, through some would argue that point. Art is the expression of creativity, and as a species our pool of creativity is everexpanding as we're exposed to more new and wonderful, and sometimes terrible, things. It would seem that everyone has something unique to contribute to the world.

I believe this is true.

Art is the expression of creativity, and as a species our pool of creativity is ever-expanding as we’re exposed to more new and wonderful, and sometimes terrible, things.

However, where do you draw the line between what is original and what isn’t?

If a high-schooler comes up with a game that none of her friends have heard of, is she original? Within that school, maybe, but what if someone else has thought up that exact same game in another school? Is it original, or is it stale, a recycled idea, a trope?

What if an inventor takes a well-known device and improves it, personalises it? Is it original, even though it’s drawing upon a well-established idea?

If we broaden our definition for originality, then nothing is original, for even what is truly original now may become humdrum in the future. All cliches were original once.

For artists, no matter your craft or creed, the question of originality can be a torturous one. We’ve been taught to pursue originality, to search for ideas that are fresh and new. But to define what’s original, one must compare themselves to centuries of human thought and design, thousands upon thousands of ideas. And that kind of behaviour, no matter the good intentions with which it is fostered, is more harmful than beneficial.

So when it comes to the question of originality, I think it is wise to side with the ‘less is more’ philosophy. Seek what is fresh and new. But more importantly, seek what is you. Don’t be afraid to draw upon well-established conventions, cinematic techniques, artistic styles, or musical trends.

Because, in the end, art is about self-expression, and there’s nothing more original than you.

PERTH FACT HUMPBACK MAN IS STILL BEACHING HIMSELF

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WORDS AND ART BY KATE PRENDERGAST

In October last year, WA-based roast chicken franchise Chicken Treat pulled a social media stunt that provoked guffaws from some and backlash from others. The star of the stunt was Betty – a young privately-owned backyard chook, selected by some unknown lottery in a bid to win a Guinness World Record title on behalf of the franchise. Placed in a cosy outdoor pen strewn with seeds and hay, her task was to peck out a fiveletter English-language word from a Mac Keyboard by the end of November. She was encouraged to tweet ‘whatever was on her mind’. All efforts were posted live to the @ChickenTreat account under #chickentweet.

though. Whilst the October-November stunt did have RSPCA approval, that doesn’t make it any less Orwellian in its conception. Dig just one inspecting fingernail beneath the punheavy headlines, and you’ll find an experiment which is choked up with its own wrongness. Betty is a family pet hired out for her services, so her fate probably doesn’t look like a bundle of greasy bones at the bottom of a black bin bag. But she has been recruited as an icon and representative, with the aim and fruit of her labours ultimately to send more of her brethren to the slaughter so that higher quantities can be turned into Sunday night dinners for dads insecure about their own pot roasts.

Betty failed. By the end of her run – and amongst offerings such as “1q3we bd 8i gvy b gvbhi ,,,,,, p ///////////////////////////////////////////////////// /////////////////////////////////// ` 66” and “NYO L O” (which clearly meant: “No. You only live once”) – she had only managed to tweet one intelligible three-letter word.

So, Betty failed. But Chicken Treat most certainly did not.

Despite a no-mention in the World Book (which was always more campaign justifier than goal), #chickentweet was an enormous success. The story was taken up by state-wide and major global news outlets, from WA today to TIME to Huffington Post. Animal-rights group PETA even jumped in, hijacking the hashtag to ‘translate’ Betty’s coded messages to call out the less-than-savoury aspects of industry farming. For example, “xz,, z q12```````zz`1` gho ui ` 93```````ja`````````````````` 9 1Q````````````````````J” was purportedly Betty’s attempt to say “Male chicks are thrown into grinders after being born because they’re deemed ‘useless’”. And “0 j5cq0 OOOP 43 0 / g 2” became “All my friends will be cramped into hot metal sheds with barely enough space to move.”

It was “bum”.

“Keep things clean Betty!” the company sneered with jovial embarrassment.

There is a complex layering of connotation behind Betty’s “bum”. Ultimately however, it seems to express something of a chicken’s juvenile yet courageous sense of humour, even when subjected under morbid and gratuitous trial.

But that’s just me anthropomorphising the affair further.

I was frankly let down that she didn’t manage ‘KFC’, personally

PETA is perhaps yet to realize that all publicity is good publicity.

“Just PETA being PETA” responded the company, presumably rolling their eyes.

And it is precisely this impulse to dress up animals in human characteristics that’s at the errant heart of this and so many other animal product campaigns. It’s a fatuous re-perception – replicated and reinforced across 80% of internet memes – which systematically obscures the treatment of animals by food industries, such that grotesque and violent realities are packaged up as cute and unproblematic clickbait.

Let me just get this out first though, because it’s bothering me.

As a phonetic animal noise, chickens do not ‘tweet’. They may cluck, coo, cackle, warble, chatter, squawk and bagawk – but they definitely do not ‘tweet’.

Name illogics are just a minor quibble to the bigger quarrel

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In fact, the value Betty added to the Chicken Treat brand is staggering. From a Pre-Betty statistic of 300, the company’s Twitter account now has 35,000 followers. Its sales also got a growth injection, jumping 8% within a week. In a follow-up interview with Australian Financial Review, Chicken Treat’s

PERTH FACT TONY GALATI WILL BE PREMIER IN 2024

Although news reportage on the stunt dried up in late October, the #chickentweet account is still eerily active. Betty’s final post was on November 18 (“uuuu ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,”). Following that, instead of being filled with nonsensical gobbledychook, the page’s feed has become commandeered by – from the looks of it – some awful meme-engorged intern with a YouTube tutorial knowledge of Photoshop. Now the brand’s face of Twitter, Betty has been spliced into various images as a way to respond to cultural events and topics. Image posts range from the Star Wars FIGURE1 reboot (“Welcome Back Princess Layer”), to the Australian Open, to the Golden Globes.

There was also an incredibly disturbing, culturally-insensitive yet somehow popular 12 Days of Christmas serial post (see: Figure 1). Occasionally, a KFC tweet by some oblivious secret spices-fan pops up under the same hashtag.

At 39-years-old, Chicken Treat is by now a middle-aged bird.

Whilst it has more outlets than even McDonalds in WA, it’s always had it tough competing against the lardier chip-bagging leviathans. Operating mainly out of regional towns, it is entirely absent from the CBD. The closest store within a radius is Inglewood’s.

To distinguish itself in a competitive market, the company has had to start strategically acting out. With no doubt the top marketing whizkids yelling excitedly and playing ‘pass the egg’ at the ideas board, all kinds of gimmicky, bizarre and rebellious ploys have been rustled up to nab consumer’s attention. Similar to the new Vaporwave Mr. Rental (although nowhere near as confounding), it’s re-defining itself as a “challenger brand” – a corporate consolidated version of a Rick and Morty Mr Meeseeks – inherently wrong, irritating, yet nonetheless mind-jacking.

About a month prior to Betty, Chicken Treat pulled another “what are we like? EDGY! WEIRD! Whaaaat?” move by introducing the August ChiCow burger– a beef and poultry patty-smash of the Frankenstein Food order. Their “loaded chips” are another menu eccentricity of gross appeal, which offers fries drizzled in a kind of off-yellow Twisties-flavoured gunk.

Perhaps what is most disturbing in terms of in-store experience however, is the design of the Chicken Treat serving box (see: Figure 2). Bright yellow with a single pair of red chicken legs, the diner gets the impression that their chicken merely stood inside the cardboard trench and, of its own self-effacing accord, disintegrated into oily smithereens.

Animal Welfare movement has taken strides in the last decade in Australia. Globally too, fast food chains have been under significant pressure from stakeholders and activists to reform their practices and policies. Vast amounts of dollars have been invested into an ethical “scrubbing up” of their image, like McDonalds 2013 ‘Our Food, Your Questions’ campaign, which supposedly reassured us through infographics and videos that McNuggets aren’t made up of chicken feet mulch and pig snot. That said, most companies’ so-called ‘reform’ rarely goes beyond loudly announcing non-binding ‘commitments’ they aren’t legally obliged to make good on.

In surprising and unsettling contrast, information on how Chicken Treat Treats is Chickens virtually non-existent. There is no mention of their practices on their website, and efforts have been unavailing on the wider web as well. The company may be the local ‘little guy’; but this is no excuse for its lack of upfront honesty with an increasingly food ethics-conscious public.

KFC at least meets the consumer halfway on transparency, listing at the top of the FAQ’s page “Are your chickens well looked after”. Don’t take them at their word, but they declare themselves here adherents to the Model Code of Practice for the Welfare of Animals, Domestic Poultry, and that their chickens are not raised in cages, but “large barns that are typically bedded with wood shavings or rice hulls”. Note “typically”.

Irrespective of whether you are in the Herzog camp, repulsed by the “enormity of their flat brains” or rigorously check all your eggbox labelling because of Chicken Run, as living, feeling, sentient creatures, chickens deserve an existence which is as comfortable and stress-free as possible. If Chicken Treat isn’t going to provide me easy access to information about the ethics of their farming practices, well, they won’t be getting my coin anytime soon. (Disclaimer: I’ve been once in my life. Makes the commitment a bit less grand, really).

I started this follow-up investigation on a months-old story because I was curious to know what happened to Betty – initially having supposed she was some random chook plucked from a Chicken Treat farm. In other words, I cared. Which, aside from the whole ‘give a thing a name and you’ve already bonded’ rule, is telling – because I rarely stop to care or even think about the millions of other animals which may be suffering appallingly for my finger-lickin’ benefit. I’m not a vegetarian, and whilst I respect those who choose that lifestyle, don’t see myself becoming one any time soon. So yeah – I do want animals to die for me. True. But I don’t want them to live in pain for me.

There’s that distinction.

I’m not going to let Betty have the last word, or even spin some pun out of ‘fowl play’. Because ultimately, Betty is just a dumb chook exploited for the amusement of a species that coddles the animals it owns, and plays amnesiac with animals it doesn’t.

We can do better.

Pelican sought comment from Chicken Treat HQ in Balcatta.

At each attempt, only a burbling answering machine was reached.

On the back of several nauseating documentaries and horrorfilled Four Corners reports into the realities of industry farming – tied in perhaps with the rise of the vegan hipster profile – the

PERTH FACT FRINGE WORLD STARTED AS A GULAG FOR POLITICAL PRISONERS

FIGURE 2

Chief Executive Mimma Battista expressed the company’s new objectives to increase by 36 stores over the next three years, getting the chain back up to 100 outlets. Ultimately, the white chicken will strut east to set down its haunches at greasy outposts in the Northern Territory and Queensland.

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African Students’ Union Re-launch stronger communities for a better tomorrow WORDS BY TINASHE JAKWA

The university is a microcosm of the broader world at large.

The anxieties which shape our relations outside of it do not necessarily leave us within its bounds. We carry our day-today struggles into its fraught spaces. We carry our ambitions, expectations (both our own and of those we hold dear), uncertainty and hope about the future, on our shoulders.

Alienation is not unknown, whether in terms of curricula, discriminatory experiences and uncomfortable exchanges with others. Making sure our voices are heard in these circumstances is no easy task. Creating spaces and opportunities for ourselves to flourish where they are lacking, and seeking the support we need when it is not always available or visible is trying.

Community-building becomes imperative, creating our own structures of support so we are not left wanting, and so we can speak with and learn from others who have faced similar trials to ours and are open to forming bonds of friendship.

Community-building becomes imperative, creating our own structures of support so we are not left wanting The African Students’ Union looks to facilitate the building of these relationships between students of African descent and allies looking to stand in solidarity with us as we each play our part(s) in bettering the world and this institution as best we can. It looks to foster greater understanding of African peoples and our cultures, as well as the histories and contemporary circumstances which have informed our lives and where we find ourselves today, including at this university. It seeks to challenge and undo false narratives about marginalised peoples by privileging unheard voices and the invaluable knowledge they carry. In order to create strong communities, respectful understandings of each other must be cultivated. Over the past couple of years, the Union has struggled to maintain a strong campus presence and support network for its membership, falling short of its aims. But this is what fresh beginnings are for!

The recent announcement of 300 staff cuts by the university’s administration highlights the need for strong student organisations and organising to direct life in the academy in

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the direction(s) we desire. Such assaults on our education and the wellbeing of those who provide it severely impact the most disadvantaged and marginalised of us, within this institution and society more broadly. It diminishes the possibility of effective institutional changes that would redress imbalances in power, and that would respect and uphold the wellbeing of students, staff, and diverse voices beyond the status quo. In recent memory, the Gender Studies major (amongst others) was also cut; presently it is only available to re-enrolling students. The lack of a concerted effort by the university’s administration to promote Indigenous Studies and a culture where these studies can flourish further emphasises the crisis UWA finds itself in.

The devaluation of subjugated, gendered and racialised groups’ experiences and knowledge at this university (and many others) is indicative of a lack of care for producing sound research which properly accounts for the political economy within which we live and the differential treatment and quality of life available to people therein. And it remains to be seen what the full effects of the re-structuring the university is undergoing will bring. So, it is with these challenges in mind that we are re-launching the African Students’ Union; a new beginning for a stronger Union.

Beginning this year, the Union will be working in collaboration with the Africa Research Cluster, established at the university in July 2015, hosting events promoting Africa-focused research and creating space for stronger African Studies research at UWA. We will also be hosting many social events for you to meet, talk, and learn from a range of people outside your usual social circles. African postgraduates may rest easy knowing there will be representation for you within the Union to help with any of your concerns, including bringing professional development opportunities to your attention. The Union will also be doing work to foster strong African-Indigenous solidarity, the importance of and need for which cannot be overstated. To help us do this, we will be launching our magazine SCATTERed this semester. Through the publication of this magazine we hope to bring people from all walks of life together to build a truly strong community able to support its members. We also hope to be able to expand our reach across Perth universities and to see greater involvement with the Union from students thereof.

With your involvement and contributions, we will surely achieve all we set out to. Help us to make this university a place that you are proud of.

PERTH FACT ONLY 6 PEOPLE STILL CARE ABOUT INDIE-FOLK

INTERVIEW WITH TOMÁS FORD INTERVIEW BY KATE PRENDERGAST ART BY HAYDEN DALZIEL

Earlier this month, Pelican had a chat with Perth’s own Hype Ironic Dance Baron of Fringe World, Tomás Ford. Here, he talks about the ways Fringe has changed over the years, cool dads struggling with Berlin techno, a Bali taxi ride of Adele purgatory, and his upcoming web series, ‘Chase!’. We also found him to be a really quite lovely gentleman.

First off, how are things?

Yeah good! Very tired and slightly delirious from the weekend shows, but otherwise really good. Fringe World is such a crazy time of year.

People either seem to not be able to get enough of Crap Music Rave Party, or they just don’t get it at all. What do you think makes it so subjective?

Well, it’s funny. If someone else did the show, it’s probably not something I would go to myself? Which is probably why it works – because I think if I was totally into it, the irony wouldn’t be as strong.

Is there any music that’s too crap for Crap Music Rave Party?

Music you can’t dance to. It gets hard with some of the fluffier 80s stuff, or Creed – you know Creed? It’s like you can’t even really sing along to them really. You need to be able to do something to them. Like dance or sing. Or just cry.

Is there a difference between a plainly awful song, and an ironically awful song?

Partially it’s how I feel when I play it. Like if I play something that makes me go “Ewww...that’s really fun!” then that feeling is a pretty good gut feeling for what works at the show for me. But I’ve also done this show quite a lot now, and there are songs that people will ask for all the time, and you go, “well, I’m not really going to play that as it’s actually just going to clear the dance floor”. Kate Ceberano’s “Bedroom Eyes” would be one. The first time I played it, I was like “TEHEHEHE!!” – because it’s so awful. But now there’s just nothing you can do to it.

It’s an unpredictable game. You’ll play something you think won’t work – like somebody requested the actual music from Riverdance, but it went down really well

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and everyone started riverdancing. It’s one of the nice things about the shows, that unpredictability; and it changes erratically from gig to gig, city to city, country to country. It’s completely different.

You’ve toured around Europe – mainly England and Edinburgh – but also Prague?

I didn’t even know Prague had a Fringe festival.

It’s still early days there. There’s this great guy Steve Gove who books the Prague festival – he’s at all the Prague festivals – and he got quite excited about my Adelaide show last year. So I took a different show – that I probably shouldn’t have taken. I don’t know, I just wanted to go. And Europe is probably the eventual market for these kinds of acts. It’s still a matter of figuring out how it will all work for me. Which feels pretty late in the game, being 33-years-old; but it’s one of those processes that you chip away at. It’s so hard to get shows to work from that far away and having to deal with all the weird problems you can think of. It’s a bit of a learning curve, but that’s where the show is going, eventually.

2016 marks a decade since you began Fringe. Seeing that full evolution over ten years, how has the festival changed?

Well it’s interesting, because back in 2000s there was a WA Fringe Festival, and there were heaps and heaps of acts. Not as many as there are this year – but it was fucking big. But no-one was going to anything!

There were loads of people putting on grassroots shows, and no-one was giving a shit. So when they started doing a Fringe Festival here I was like, “Nup. Not going to put a show on.” And then everything sold out and I was like “AAHHHH, fuck.” To go from a point where I was doing shows in pubs and not being on anybody’s radar, to having a festival here that people are saying is the third biggest Fringe in the world – it’s such a massive platform just to be able to have the Fringe arts industry come to Perth and see what I’ve built here.

Ten years ago, getting anyone to Perth would’ve been impossible. Mind you it’s like that in the music industry.

quite critical of this year’s Fringe. Mainly, they’ve taken issue with the doubling of the registration fees (from $150 to $300 in 2015), and that the event has expanded beyond what organizers can handle – such that some performers aren’t even breaking even.

Yeah, it’s tricky for me. Because I do fundamentally agree with you – that we should all be making more money than we are. I mean I don’t make that much – even on the weekends after commissions and advertising. But Fringe festival is a platform for self-producing. It is possible to make money over a long period of time; but if you look at it on a show-byshow basis then until you’ve built up an audience you’re just going to lose masses and masses of money. But that’s true for self-producing in and out of festival time.

For instance if I’m going to a new market – if you’re putting on a new show you’re essentially developing a new market – then those losses are just almost always going to happen. Like I went to Sydney two months ago with Crap Music Rave Party and lost a fuck-tonne of money, and it’s like well, of course I did.

So, realistically, a one-off Fringe run is never really going to fly financially for performers – artists need to be accepted and embedded in the Fringe environment before people are going to realize “hey, this is a thing”.

Again, tricky! I really do sympathise with some of the performers, because as artists, we don’t necessarily have an entrepreneurial skillset as well. I’m kind

There have been a few articles that have come out online recently being

PERTH FACT IN PREHISTORIC TIMES, COLIN BARNETT WAS COVERED IN FEATHERS, CONTRARY TO POPULAR DEPICTIONS WITH SCALES

of lucky in that I find that side of the business really fun. I used to hate it but I’ve had to do it for long enough that I’m just like “urrk, I guess we’ll go do the lame hustle thing now.” There’s probably things the festival could do in terms of guiding people and budgeting shows, so performers aren’t spending more than they’re bringing in. But especially in terms of the Fringe model, the deal here is very good. If you went to the Liberal party and said “create a free market version of the arts industry where it’s just total free market economics” they would come up with Fringe festivals.

Because it’s all money. There’s not really any support. You’ve really got to build your own platform using your own capital, and all the rest of it. So festivals are problematic – but in comparison to all the other opportunities that don’t exist in Perth, they’re pretty good.

Given how hard it is to start up a show, what is it that prompted you to start self-producing shows in the first place?

Well, I did theatre at uni...I don’t know.

I just don’t like doing what other people want me to! [laughs of solidarity]. So the idea of going and working for an ad or a production of some state theatre show or a traditional play is beyond lame to me. And it was like, what’s out there? At the time there was a lot of two-hander Fringe theatre – Lionel and Woodley kind of gigs – and that got me really excited about the idea that these guys could just go around and produce themselves.

I was also playing in bands, and in that environment, to get ahead you really have to be good at self-coordinating.

I just fell into it really. Failed for long

enough that I looked successful for a bit, and then that slowly transformed to a point where I didn’t need a day job anymore – but that’s only really recent.

Just quite a DIY person as well.

space where I’m asking “who is likely to come to my shows? How can I make a show that does all the things I want it to

Your style seems to have changed from hard-core punk to nuanced synth-y cabaret vibe. What caused that change?

Ten years ago, you might have pitched that to Triple J, and they’d be “That is WAY too scary for us!” RÜFÜS-loving kind of millennial types

Well for one thing, I’ve started to get a little annoyed with reviews saying I couldn’t sing? And, I don’t really mind being told I can’t sing, because I know I can sing. But it just made me think, “well, I should probably do a proper sing-y show.” So I started working on Spy, thinking, “what would show off my that side of my voice the best”, and went for the Shirley Bassey, big-belter numbers that really suits my style. But even in that show, it’s an hour’s singing, I’m running around like a dickhead…you get pitchy, it happens.

Another thing is that the shows take a long time to write. By the time the show I took to Edinburgh was ready, it’d been six or seven years that I’d been getting that batch of material. You’re putting in all this time, and it’s not always immediately apparent to people the amount of work that goes in; the amount of craft that’s there. I wanted to do something a little bit more restrained, so that maybe if I stepped back a little, people would be able to see it. But also, audience-wise, the late-night kind of “AAARGH! Cabaret!” that I love doing is so difficult to market. Ten years ago, you might have pitched that to Triple J, and they’d be “That is WAY too scary for us!” RÜFÜS-loving kind of millennial types. Which means I’m stuck in this

do as a performer for them?” But I love that. I’m writing more consciously now, trying to do specific things for specific audiences.

What’s next on the cards for you?

I have a lot of things coming up. I’m filming a web series that will be out hopefully longer this year that’ll be called Chase! – about this James Bond character running about Australia and South East Asia on a massive coke bender. Then I’ll be doing a record for this simultaneously, and producing a bunch of other content on the side.

Ultimately I’ve learnt not to rely on things working. I’ll probably stay in Perth, because I think it’s important for supercool artists like me to hang out and actually be in the city. It’s never going to evolve if we all leave. I guess I’ll just continue building a body of work that I can be really happy with. As much as it would be nice to be David Bowie, the goal to remaining employed as an artist: that at least seems fairly achievable.

PERTH FACT CALL CALL CARPET CALL, ALSO EXPERTS IN SUEDE

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Class and the Body WORDS BY HAYDEN DALZIEL ART BY ELYSIA GELAVIS

His hands are more wrinkled than a sultana now; he looks like a man a whole decade or two older than he is. His eyes are sunken and his cheeks are stretched across the bone with little fat left between. It’s the thighs that get to me most, the pants the hospital gave him only betray a suggestion of their true emaciation but I can tell that they’re frighteningly thin. Across from him sits a visitor for the other patient in the room. We find out that he’s also 80 but if I had to guess I would have said a whole decade younger at least. He looks jolly, with round fatty cheeks that catch the light coming in from the window, not stretched over the bone but round and full between his few wrinkles. He looks something like what I suppose my grandpa would have looked like if he hadn’t spent so many years working at the wharf.

The wharf sounds like an utter hellhole to me now – the wharfies were constantly losing fingers left right and centre or narrowly avoiding death due to lax safety standards and drunkenly operated machinery. I’ve been told stories of how overbalanced cranes led to grandpa’s head nearly being taken off by a shipping crate, which missed him by only a centimeter and ripped off part of his ear. It was the constant injuries that prompted him to become the safety officer on-site for the union (the ever-militant Maritime Workers Union). But the union couldn’t do anything about dangers posed by the drinking; extremely drunk men operated every crane on the wharf. The workers would start drinking at 6am - the pub would open up early just for them. Round 2 would start a few hours later, followed by lunch, followed by mid afternoon drinks, followed by several rounds from closing time until the pub shut its doors at 6pm. The drinking was a necessary coping mechanism to deal with a life that entirely revolved around work, but it was also what led to diabetes, liver problems and rarely seen families.

It took a while to realise that it wasn’t the drinking that did it.

It was working a shitty job for most of his life and many other things that lower class families have to deal with. It makes me wonder if I’ll also end up ageing so prematurely, not because I work in a pre-workplace-safety hellhole like my grandfather but because I can already see shitty jobs taking their toll on the bodies of my friends. I can already see a close friend from high school whose back has been ruined partly because of heavy lifting in shady hospitality jobs working for a cokehead. I can see that it isn’t physical conditions that are taking the biggest toll; the people I care about are having their mental health ruined.

what happens when someone wants to work but can’t find anything that doesn’t require physical labour.

Centrelink can help a few, but working as a carer for the past few years has led me to realise that Centrelink doesn’t provide enough for a disabled person to live in anything approaching comfort. In reality the small wage isn’t enough to pay rent for anything more than a sharehouse, an entirely unrealistic situation for someone with a serious illness or disability. Many people live with carers whose pension is actually high enough to pay rent, but this forces people into situations where they are economically as well as physically dependent on their carer.

This isn’t a livable situation if there are other factors at play such as if the carer is abusive or is suffering from drug addiction, yet the economic realities mean people are stuck in this situation.

There is no illusion of class mobility when people are forced onto an extremely low fixed income, often for the rest of their lives.

Again we’re not told what should happen when a person doesn’t qualify for a pension or worse, is kicked off one when a new “welfare crackdown” comes around. Such situations leave people in limbo where society’s expectations are contradictory because the justifications for exploitation fall apart. We aren’t told how to function if our labour isn’t worth anything economically, especially when welfare breaks down in the face of politics.

This has made me realise two facts: our bodies often determine our class, and our class determines what happens to our bodies.

I can’t offer a solution to this (bloody hell I’d get a Nobel Prize if I could) but I do know it’s important to understand how our expectations of those unable to work are contradictory or set impossible goals, and how our incomes, our working lives, will all affect our bodies one day. Perhaps that is the first step to something better.

The most depressing part of it is that many of the people I know who can’t work are the ones who don’t have a body they can put in danger in the same way. People who are unable to work due to constant mental or physical pain, or the very real but often delegitimised limitations of a disability. We’re not told

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PERTH FACT GINA RINEHART DIRECTED A PORNO CALLED “SPECIAL ECONOMIC BONERS”

WORDS BY JESSICA COCKERILL ART BY ASHLEIGH ANGUS & HAYDEN DALZIEL

Watering plants should be so simple, and yet it can seem so

conditions can cause the plant to suffer

hard to get right. It’s easy to think: “oh god! There are so many

from rot and fungal infection. Your plant could

awful things that can happen to a plant! There is no possible

be too wet if…

way for a busy, distracted person like me to keep such a fragile thing alive!”

The leaves are going brown or black in spots, and the dark parts are floppy and soft.

Lucky for you, plants operate on a very different time scale than we do, and in many cases, this gives us time to notice the problem and respond before any serious damage is done. The most important component of watering plants is to check on them every 3-5 days. I don’t mean watering them that often; just checking on them. A little ol’ “hey how ya doing pal?” After that, it’s just a matter of balancing the input and output of water.

Things to take into consideration:

You can see mould or black splotches on the stem or near the roots.

Lastly, I’d like to emphasise the value of less frequent, but longer, deeper watering, as opposed to frequent light watering.

By deep watering, I mean really soaking the plant, until bubbles cease to rise from the surface. Deep watering trains the roots to go deeper into the soil, which improves the water efficiency and resilience of a plant. Of course, make sure that your drainage is

The plant’s general water needs (i.e. what the

good, and let the plant use up this water before you go to water

label says about the plant, usually based on

it again next time!

where the plant originated from)…

Evaporation rate (increased when the air is hot, dry, and/or windy) Drainage rate (determined by the balance of

sand and clay in the soil, as well as whether your plant is potted or in the ground) A plant will lose water faster if the air is dry, hot, and/or windy, or if the soil is very sandy, like most areas of Perth. Water loss leads to desiccation, which will eventually kill a plant. Your plant could be too dry if…

The leaves are going brown at the tips, and the brown parts are crunchy.

The leaves are wilting after a very hot/windy/dry day.

On the other hand, if a plant is too waterlogged, this is often because the air is too humid, watering rates are too high, or there is insufficient drainage (perhaps it is in a pot with no hole, or the soil is heavy with clay or organic matter). All

Have you had any plant problems lately? Are you curious about something you saw in someone’s garden? Or do you have something exciting to share with us? Send your questions, photos and thoughts to pelican@guild.uwa.edu.au!

PERTH FACT FELLING THAT TREE IN COOLBELLUP CREATED MORE PUBLIC OUTRAGE THAN WHEN WE DEPORTED KIDS TO NAURU

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Scandinavia Buckles The End of Schengen WORDS BY LEAH ROBERTS ART BY GABRIELLA LOO

2015 was a hard year for liberal Europe, and 2016 will be harder.

The Syrian Civil War continues to escalate with United Nations reports detailing starvation in Syrian cities around the country.

As more people try and escape this fate there are still refugees trying to find a new home in Europe. Of the 10.5 million displaced Syrians, 4 million have left the country, seeking safety for themselves and their loved ones. The number has slowed in recent months due to the wintery weather conditions making it much more difficult to make the already treacherous voyage to Europe. Despite this crisis, some countries have continued to intensify their border security to stop refugees from entering.

Recently, Sweden has enforced stricter passport checks in an effort to keep refugees out. In Copenhagen’s Kastrup Station, new identity checks add another 45 minutes to a trip that would normally take only 36. Commuters going to trains heading to Sweden from Denmark will be required to disembark at the airport to have papers checked by security before being allowed to catch other trains headings north. Sweden has told (threatened) travel companies such as Danish train operator DSB that there will be heavy fines if they allow “irregular passengers to venture past the border.” Note that according to the new rules, “irregular passengers” refers to refugees. These changes and the increase in the time has meant commuters have started looking for new jobs. In addition there have been problems on which photo ID is acceptable with officials not accepting ID from the Swedish tax department.

Swedish Prime Minister Stefan Lofven from the Social Democrat Party justified his reasoning for these changes, stating that the country has become “naïve”. He explained, “It has been hard for us to accept that in our midst there are people sympathizing with the ISIS killers.” Many researchers have become worried that this will result in the start of the many other European countries closing their borders, effectively stopping Syrians from entering Europe. Denmark’s Prime Minister Lars Lokke Rasmussen, from the centre-right Venstre party, is angry with the move as it might encourage refugees to seek asylum in Denmark and has implemented a number of new measures to discourage refugees. Leading a minority government, Rasmussen needs the support of the DPP (Danish People Party), a nationalist anti-refugee party along with other conservative parties to pass legislation.

In 2015 Sweden had 200,000 refugees – twice what they intended, and as a result have been struggling to provide housing, education and other services for them. With the country struggling to house more refugees and tensions rising, one can understand why border protection policies are gaining popularity. The problem with the reforms is it breaks the Schengen Agreement, which allows Europeans and others

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to travel freely between countries. This agreement is a key and distinguishing factor in Europe and a fundamental tenet of the European Union. Many scholars and people in the community are continuing to call for other countries in Europe to help with this crisis to ensure that not just a few countries have to deal with the majority of refugees if they are simply unable to house them. Currently no changes have been made to general European policy, and this will continue to be the case if there is not a drastic change in European leadership.

Sweden has always been a progressive country and popularly considered to have of the ‘nicest’ citizen populations in Europe.

However, this latest hardening in policy is giving experts cause for concern. Germany has already tightened border controls, as have Hungary and Slovenia. Worryingly, Denmark seems to be building on Sweden’s changes, putting in place restrictions for immigrants to find work and the amount of money they receive.

The strain placed on Swedish society has led the government to announce that it will deport up to 80,000 asylum seekers “in the coming years.” This comes immediately in the wake of the tragic stabbing death of a 22-year-old female who worked in a refugee centre by a 15-year-old refugee. There is growing worry about these types of attacks. The family of the victim blames the Swedish government for not doing enough to prevent such attacks. The weight of refugees that are unaccompanied minors continues to be a serious problem.

As a global community, a solution must be found. The nations of Europe must share the burden of refugee arrivals from the Mediterranean, and set a framework to facilitate this.

Additionally, there must be Europe-wide agreements on how to provide for refugees once they have arrived, giving them housing, education and employment so that they do not become disenfranchised, and are able to contribute to the community that welcomes them. There will no doubt be growing pains associated with this demographic transition. However, much greater long-term troubles will be suffered if these issues are not faced and dealt with now, and the crisis goes unresolved.

PERTH FACT ACCORDING TO SCIENCE, BY 2050, 340% OF PERTH WILL BE IN MELBOURNE

POLITICS

A FRESH START A TALE OF TWO PRESIDENTS WORDS BY BRADLEY GRIFFIN ART BY GABRIELLA LOO

Iran has had a tumultuous relationship with the West. It was exploited by the British in the 1920s, and then invaded by them with the Soviets in the 1940s. In the 1950s the US supported a coup against the democratically elected government, only for the autocratic Shah to be overthrown by a theocratic revolution in 1979. In 1980 Iraq invaded Iran with the support of the US and its allies, and Iran took US hostages. Since then, tensions have been pretty high.

Iran has constantly been a victim of foreign exploitation and invasion, and as such guards its security and ability to defend itself quite fervently. During and in the aftermath of the devastating Iran-Iraq War (1980-1988), Iran’s leadership desperately pursued a nuclear deterrent in order to prevent such wholesale destruction again. Former Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad fiercely pursued this objective. However, in the early 2000s the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) discovered Iran’s secret facilities and exposed the program to the world. Crippling sanctions and isolation from the international community soon followed. Iran was left without a friend in the world. However, since the Presidency of the hardline Ahmadinejad, two important elections occurred: That of President Hassan Rouhani in Iran and Barack Obama in the US. These were two Presidents bent on diplomacy. Rouhani and Obama were both elected on platforms of doing things differently, and in a matter opposed to their conservative predecessors. For Rouhani, it was the promise to dismantle sanctions and open Iran once more to Western markets. For Obama, it was an end to needless foreign conflicts. Both Presidents have achieved these aims. The P5+1 (US, UK, Russia, China, France + Germany) talks with Iran, the resultant deal, and the projected peace and continued cooperation are a groundbreaking success for diplomacy. Obama has breathed life back into that instrument of foreign policy that seemed to collect dust from disuse during eight years of Bush.

I won’t bore you with the vagaries of the deal, but know this: The Republicans hate it, the Israelis loathe it, Obama is happy with it, and the Iranians are satisfied. Without getting too far into the specifics of nuclear weaponization, Iran has agreed to submit itself to regular checks by the IAEA, and dismantled equipment vital to the production of weapons-grade plutonium. All experts in the field claim that this sets their program back at least 10 – 15 years. Though all are not pleased, this is a huge success for diplomacy, and an instrumental step forward in terms of progressing US-Iran relations.

Economically, the benefits are legion. Iran suffered terribly under the economic sanctions, and its consumers felt the worst of this. European goods became prohibitively expensive or nonexistent, and the population suffered. With the sanctions lifted,

$100b worth of Iranian assets abroad have been unfrozen, as well as Iranian banks now being allowed to access the international banking system. Furthermore, the EU and UN have completely unlocked trade barriers, opening the world market to Iranian oil exports. Critically, US companies and individuals are still not allowed to trade with Iran, though I expect the US will soon change their stance once its corporations lobby enough. Many European countries are already holding meetings with the Iranian leadership to secure deals to modernize Iran’s air fleet and its oil processing industries.

Strategically, Iran is now important than ever to US interests, so you can be forgiven for feeling a little cynical about the timing of this deal. US policy in the Middle East has fallen apart. Syria and Iraq are sliding ever closer to state failure, and Iran remains the only nation in the region committed to fighting all forms of Sunni terrorism. Though this is all part of Iran’s proxy war with Saudi Arabia for regional dominance, the US may find that it has far more in common with its old enemy than its old autocrats in the Gulf and even perhaps Israel.

There are fears that the economic boom that Iran is expected to reap over the next few years (The Economist claims 5-8%) will be used at least in part to bankroll militias in regional conflicts, but let’s be honest – there is no other state in the region that doesn’t do that already, the US included.

This is certainly a gamble for Obama – a President that has achieved more through diplomacy than any other in recent memory. Indeed, in an interview with Thomas Friedman from Foreign Policy, Obama was quoted as saying “We are powerful enough to test these propositions without putting ourselves at risk.” If cooler heads such as Rouhani continue to prevail in Iran, then there is little reason why this gamble shouldn’t pay off.

Similar to Nixon visiting China, we may well witness a ‘Clinton Visits Iran’ moment in the coming decade. The real test for Rouhani is to make good on his promises to the people that elected him. He promised strong economic growth if he took the country down the path of nuclear disarmament. If the economy falters now, he will have no scapegoat, and Iran will likely turn back to another Ahmadinejad – a result beneficial only for Saudi Arabia.

Iran and the US need each other, and they would do well to remember that in these times of insurrection, regional instability and uncertainty.

PERTH FACT THE GOLD NUGGET WE SHOWED EVERYONE AT CHOGM HAS SINCE BEEN PAWNED AT CASH CONVERTERS

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THE HATE WALL WORDS BY HARRY PETER SANDERSON ART BY GABRIELLA LOO

The only work of Chinese fiction I have ever been given is Feng Menglong’s Stories Old and New. In choosing the name of his compilation, Menglong almost certainly sought to indicate to the prospective reader that the stories were not of one chronological space, but instead a broad retrospective of his vast writings. Still, when reading, I liked to pretend he meant the title to apply to each story individually; that each word read was in that moment somehow both absolutely contemporary and absolutely antique. On first thought the states of being fresh and old might seem mutually exclusive- in fact, they are not. We need only look at trends in generational style, and even contemporary politics, to realise temporality is almost always ambiguous.

Nowhere is the complexity of freshness demonstrated more clearly than in the longstanding cultural fascination with local nostalgia. Each western generation tends to glorify the stocks and styles of those previous after they have become superficially outdated. This phenomenon differs from the appreciation of antique furniture or fine art, instead dealing with the curious re-entry of vintage items into cultural currency after only a few decades of their original ‘newness.’ Technologies and outfits from the recent past take on heightened and ironical social value, and so the most fresh objects become those that are not fresh at all. Current articles of this sort include calculator watches, flip phones, crop tops, moustaches, physical letters, toto, film cameras, tie pins, and champagne coupes. Most emblematic of all is the renaissance of the record player, which marks the convoluted interplay between time and style: something new cannot only be at the same time old, but new by way of its oldness.

This duality of freshness is current too in the political sphere, as personified by socialist prophet and hopeful democratic Presidential nominee Bernie Sanders.

Senator Sanders, of Burlington Vermont, is nothing if not fresh. He and his team have taken an unprecedented approach to the funding structure of the election by effectively crowd-funding their

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campaign in order to avoid the influence of corporate financiers. As a result, Bernie has broken the record for most individual contributions to any American campaign historically. In addition to his innovative spirit, he puts clear emphasis on effective and honest communication. His fiercely progressive words on marriage equality and class structure are delivered with a youthful earnestness not found in any of his competitors. His speeches are nononsense, eschewing all dusty political rhetoric. The phrase “let’s be very clear about this” can be heard several times in any given appearance, delivered in his resounding Brooklyn tones. He markets extensively through social media, and has unsurprisingly promising polls amongst politically minded, fresh-faced students.

Today’s left wing political forces, traditionally associated with the young, find their greatest orchestrator in a 76-year-old man And yet, for all his vigour, Sanders is the oldest person ever to have contested for a Presidential nomination. all his vigour, Sanders is the oldest person ever to have contested for a Presidential nomination. Today’s left wing political forces, traditionally associated with the young, find their greatest orchestrator in a 76-year-old man. Like Menglong’s stories, Bernie is both old and new. His dynamic approach to campaigning is informed by his experiences in politics since the 1960s, so that he is able to exist as a candidate both within and without the past. His followers look to something that was incepted in 1941 for the most lucid and forwardthinking political dialogue currently available- as with the vinyl record, he is an outdated source of superior sound quality.

Worlds revolve, and on the opposite pole of the US political spectrum sits Donald Trump. Where does he factor in the conversation between old and new?

Trump is younger than Sanders, yet we

might hesitate to call his campaign any synonym of fresh. Salon’s Heather Parton described Trump’s presence in politics as a ‘fresh fascism,’ yet there is issue in branding his antagonism original. Like everything, hate has an ancestry, and Trump stands in a line of spiteful demagogues stretching in books through the past. Identifying his individual knot of roots is not difficult.

Take for example his plan to erect a wall between Mexico and the United States to prevent the unlawful immigration of Mexican citizens. Direct influence can be seen in Indian Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi, and his erection of a fence on the IndoBangladesh border in the late 1980s to impede the flow of illegal workers. Before him we can look to Erich Honecker, central in the construction of the Berlin wall and surrounding controversies of immigration between East and West Germany in the 1960s. Drawing back more broadly still we can go so far as Qin Shi Huangd, king of Tsin, who built the Great Wall of China in 200BCE so as to defend his land from Mongolian tribes.

Lines between these men quickly begin to draw themselves, reaching through the considerable gaps in historical space to offer common themes that evidence precisely the un-freshness of antagonism.

Huangd, as well as building the Great Wall, ordered mass executions and the torching of libraries, in an event now referred to

by Chinese historians as ‘the burning of books and burying of scholars.’ The East Germans carried out similar executions in conflicts surrounding the Berlin wall, and in the same city only a few years earlier the Nazis extensively burnt literature. In 1995, Salman Rushdie’s The Moor’s Last Sigh was burned by Rajiv Gandhi’s party for its caricature of Bal Thackeray, and for portraying a stuffed dog on wheels named Jawaharlal Nehru (India’s first Prime Minister)- fifteen years later, a Human Rights Watch investigation found that the Indian Border Security Force (BSF) killed over 1000 Bangladeshis in the first decade of the 21st century alone.

Such historical patterns, and their clear prognosticative value, give cause for serious concern in regards to Trump. It is

PERTH FACT 20% OF OUR POPULATION IS KALAMUNDA ALT GIRLS

POLITICS

important to consider the ugly past as a perpetual possibility, by recognising how easily it can be made fresh again. The various infamous examples of Trump’s hateful politics- his characterisation of all Mexicans as rapists, his misogynistic comments on the menstruation of a reporter, his infantile appeal for increased firearms after the Paris attacks- might seem insignificant when compared to greater historical atrocities, yet evil must start somewhere. Trump has found rabid support in a disgruntled section of America with whom he knows he can play the politics of rage. Nowhere is the danger of a Trump presidency more clear than in his ferocious denunciation of Muslims, which mirrors Hitler’s pursuit

of the Jews even before he was elected.

Vicious words, if given an audience, have previously evolved to materialise in walls, book burnings, and executions.

Eugene Debs, Frederick Douglas, Obama and many others. Yet with Sanders, preceding ideologies are a base from which to take influence, and further progress the system of American society.

Where Bernie uses the past to his advantage, Trump’s balance of fresh and old results in a sort of political poison

Trump, conversely, follows a vicious formula of attempting forceful social division, showing no sign of creativity or invention. He is only ‘fresh’ in the sense that he is the most contemporary iteration of viral tyranny, which is itself an ancient concept.

In good faith, he will never get the

Bernie Sanders, for all his freshness, is not without precedent. He frequently calls upon the words of MLK, FDR,

PERTH FACT HEY KID WANNA BUY SOME DIRT?

chance to build his wall, but you can’t be too careful; if he does, we should begin hiding both books and people.

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WORDS BY JAYMES DURANTE ART BY NATALIE THOMPSON

Let us be clear. The Academy has a diversity problem. The film industry has a diversity crisis.

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PERTH FACT NO ONE THINKS YOU’RE A PERTHONALITY, STOP TELLING YOURSELF THAT

FILM

CHI-RAQ Director Spike Lee Starring Nick Cannon, Wesley Snipes, Teyonah Parris, Jennifer Hudson, Angela Bassett, John Cusack, Samuel L. Jackson Using Aristophanes’ Lysistrata as Chi-Raq’s ur-text, Spike Lee restyles a bout of invective about gun violence in Chicago’s lower-class urban neighbourhoods as a bawdy Greek comedy, filling the gaping two-and-a-half-Millennia crevasse with both a clear-eyed sense of history’s injustice and a celebration of black culture’s wonderful distinctness. In Aristophanes’ play, Lysistrata ends a war by insisting that women on both sides withhold sex from their indignant husbands until a peace agreement is struck. In Chi-Raq, the wine-bowl of the Acropolis is replaced by a glass of rosé, over which the vital women of Englewood, whose children pay with their lives for a violent gun war, flip it into a battle of the sexes.

Rather than reduce its women to the sum of their sexual agency, it recognises their powerlessness against brutish physicality, and characterises its men as boorish sex-hounds driven mad by newfound chastity. But humour doesn’t gloss over its indictment of barbarity, nor the blows of violence that amplify its urgent and explicit call for systemic change which rings out clear as day. By its conclusion, when Lee and co-writer Kevin Willmot wave their wand over Chi-Raq and restore it to the fair Chicago it has never been, we realise that Aristophanes’ comedy, for all its insight, follows an unfeasible dream logic: it has the sting of tragedy. Rent it online.

TANGERINE Director Sean S. Baker Starring Kitana Kiki Rodriguez, Mya Taylor, Karren Karagulian, Mickey O'Hagan, James Ransone As two hookers traversing LA to shake down a skirt-chasing, two-timing lover, trans actresses Kitana Kiki Rodriguez and Maya Taylor set out on the wildest goose chase since Kate and Cary turned their back on Baby. This palpitating screwball was shot entirely on an iPhone, with hyperdrive colour grading and a few added filters giving it the syrupy glow of an Insta at sunset. It’s fast and loose and reckless, and so are they: Rodriguez a high-pitched cyclone tearing through the streets as fast as her feet will carry her, mouthing off at near-incomprehensibly supersonic speeds; Taylor, warm and dissipating, the realist to her rage, the straight woman to Rodriguez’s kicking, punching, declamatory madcap heroine. Their milieu of shop-dwelling outcasts is vibrant with a liveliness and colour that makes most of today’s multiplex comedies look like cobbled-together scrap heaps of fart jokes. The denouement — set in a donut shop — is lightening in a bottle. Available to stream for free on SBS OnDemand.

BEASTS OF NO NATION Director Cary Joji Fukunaga Starring Idris Elba, Kurt Egyiawan, Abraham Attah, Tiffani Person True Detective helmer Cory Joji Fukunaga gave Netflix its first bona-fide awards contender with Beasts of No Nation, about a West African boy orphaned by war before he finds a powerful and consuming solace in its warfare. The Oscars ignored it, of course, but viewers didn’t. It racked up over three million views on the streaming giant within its first week of release, and (at least according to the algorithm that sorts my library) is still being watched voraciously across the platform. Idris Elba, whose coarse Commandant trains child soldiers for guerrilla warfare in the jungles of West Africa, won a SAG Award for his portrayal, violent and bursting with hubris. But it was Ghanaian child actor Abraham Attah’s leading performance that should have turned heads. His arc from innocence to indoctrination is the film’s centrifugal asset, and he performs it with the gravity and vitality of an actor three times his age. Stream it on Netflix, obv.

PERTH FACT EXPORT IS PEOPLE

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FILM REVIEWS and a staggeringly arrogant egomaniac on the other. Identifying the real Steve Jobs is the focus of this unusual biopic, and it (just about) succeeds, largely thanks to its actors and director Danny Boyle.

STEVE JOBS Director Danny Boyle Starring Michael Fassbender, Kate Winslet, Seth Rogen & Jeff Daniels There’s a key sequence in Steve Jobs where the title character is confronted by his former partner Steve Wozniak with a simple question: “You can’t write code. You’re not an engineer. You’re not a designer. You can’t put a hammer to a nail. So how come ten times a day I hear Steve Jobs is a genius? What do you do?” To which Jobs – admirably played

by Michael Fassbender – astonishingly replies, “I play the orchestra.” This curt response encapsulates what made Jobs such an intriguing and divisive figure; on the one hand a forward-thinking visionary,

ROOM Director Lenny Abrahamson Starring Brie Larson, Jacob Tremblay, Joan Allen, Sean Bridgers, William H. Macy

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Steve Jobs is adapted from Walter Isaacson’s biography of the late co-founder of Apple Computers, with the screenplay written by Aaron Sorkin (The West Wing, The Social Network), and directed by Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire, Trainspotting).

Sorkin’s background as a playwright is obvious, with the film adopting a rigid three-act structure, and a healthy dosage of creative license. Each segment follows Jobs overseeing the three key product launches of his career: the 1984 launch of the Macintosh, the catastrophic failure of the NeXT Computer in 1988, and finally, the unparalleled hysteria of the iMac in 1998. However, rather than focusing on the actual launches, the meat of the story unfolds behind the scenes in claustrophobic hallways and sterile dressing rooms, as Jobs is beset by technical glitches, resentful colleagues and the literal mother of all paternity suits.

Meanwhile, Jobs’s peculiar motivations are explored through inserted flashbacks which fill in the gaps.

The supporting cast here are pretty great, with Rogen as the neglected Wozniak, Jeff Daniels as father figure-cum-archrival John Sculley (he took his job!), Michael Stuhlbarg as the victimized Andy Hertzfeld, and

Adapted from a contemporary bestselling novel? Check. Non-mainstream actors showing off their theatre school chops?

Check. A tight, well-written script with a life-affirming resolution? Check and check. Room has the makings of prime Oscar bait. But despite the blatant awardseason pandering, this is still a well-made, emotionally affecting film. The plot is best left a mystery to prospective film goers - avoid the trailer if you can - but to give a brief rundown: 5-year-old Jack (Jacob Tremblay) has lived with his mother (Brie Larson) inside the titular Room his entire life and has no concept of the outside, but a series of events sees him thrust from this small, somewhat comfortable space and into the big, complicated world outside.

Brie Larson stars in a role that’s been a whole career coming, and she doesn’t fail

Katherine Waterston as Chrisann Brennan, the increasingly desperate and unstable mother of Jobs’s daughter. The best work, however, comes from the frustratingly alien Fassbender (well worth his Oscar nod) and a superb Kate Winslet as Jobs’s closest confidant Joanna Hoffman, who serves as the emotional conscience of the film. The dialogue is typical Sorkin, snappy and always on the move, often bordering on absurdity. Lots of walking and talking.

The film had a somewhat fraught production, with Christian Bale originally slated to play Jobs and David Fincher in the director’s chair. Surprisingly, Boyle turns out to be an ideal partner for Sorkin’s walk-and-talk writing style, which is usually cheesy and fun to mock. Boyle is in my mind a vastly underrated and kinetic filmmaker. I particularly enjoyed the use of light projections in a few key scenes, which in most directors’ hands would come off as saccharine; here they felt genuinely warm and optimistic. That said, even he can’t save the film from a truly nauseating ending complete with emotional reconciliation, in a carpark of all places.

Neither hagiographic nor a complete character assassination, Steve Jobs can best be described as the plucky little brother of The Social Network, if borderline sociopathic technowizards are your thing.

REVIEW BY MATT GREEN

to deliver on the Best Actress histrionics.

However, the rl 8-year-old Jacob Tremblay is an absolute revelation as Jack. He walks the fine line between the two pitfalls of child actors: Tremblay has screen presence enough to not have to be carried around like a piece of furniture (the kid that played Anakin Skywalker), but manages not to be a cloying little shit deserving a kick in the throat (Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone 2).

It’s Tremblay’s beyond-his-years subtlety in portraying the growth of Jack after leaving Room that saves a rather sluggish third act, and at times it’s his acting that effectively carries the adult actors through a scene, not vice-versa. Combine this with some stylish editing and a soundtrack just short of naff and you have yourself some tasty award-season fodder. Recommended.

REVIEW BY NICK MORTLET

PERTH FACT REFERRING TO TOMATO SAUCE AS ‘DEAD HORSE’ MAKES YOU MORE POPULAR WITH MY GRANDAD

FILM

WORDS BY HOLLY MUNT ART BY HOLLY JIAN

the criminals of Carol author Patricia Highsmith’s other pulps and in its anxious, almost claustrophobic interior subjectivity. So too does Brief Encounter’s Laura. When she says she “feels like a criminal,” Noël Coward acknowledges, rather explicitly, the way both films transpose the language of the thriller onto romance (see also: “I’ve fallen in love… I didn’t think such violent things could happen to ordinary people”). Carol does as much by having Therese and Carol embark on an almost noirish road trip, thrilling not just because their love is criminal (something Highsmith and Coward would have known firsthand) but because of the deep understanding the film displays of the adrenaline and terror underlying love’s passion in Highsmith’s novel and elsewhere.

A regular column in which a Pelican writer pits a current release against a classic. This issue, Holly Munt considers the case of Carol vs. Brief Encounter.

An unknown couple sit at a table sharing each other’s company, until the inane and clearly unwelcome chatter of an approaching acquaintance breaks their intimate silence. The moment gone, intimacy stolen, one of the two makes an exit, leaving with them the discreet squeeze of the other’s shoulder.

This same scene of illicit lovers bookends both films, and it’s only once we witness it the second time we’re able to fully recognise the stakes of the meeting and hence the offence made by the acquaintance. The framing device borrowed from Brief Encounter (Todd Haynes’ suggestion to Phyllis Nagy’s remarkable screen adaption of Carol) retrospectively puts the audience in the shoes of the interrupting acquaintance, unable to register the full significance of the couple’s meeting, or their silence. It drives home the crucial importance – in both films – of non-verbal gestures; of interior worlds unseen to others, such that it’s hard to understate the heartbreaking and unseen dramatic power of that same secret squeeze of a shoulder the second time around.

As film viewers, just as in life and love, gay women have always had to be more perceptive readers, more attuned to subtext, to the significance of a subtle gesture. Both films (Brief Encounter penned by gay playwright Noël Coward) share in this gay sensibility, consisting of furtive glances, shared silences and constant reading, both with pleasure and with paranoia, with loneliness and insecurity. A sensibility and language Haynes negotiates stylistically in subdued tones more akin to the drab black and white of Brief Encounter than the pastel of his Douglas Sirk homage, Far from Heaven.

Therese’s state-of-mind, according to Haynes, resembles that of

TRIVIAL TOP FIVE: FRESHER FILMS

A beginners guide to uni life through five films set on-campus.

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DEAR WHITE PEOPLE

RULES OF ATTRACTION

METROPOLITAN

AT BERKELEY

Black students lead revolt through discourse on predominantly white campus in Justin Simian’s sizzling 2014 comedy.

College according to Bret Easton Ellis. Not instructive of real, lived experience, but angsty, innovative, and amusing to watch to learn what not to do.

Insufferable urban haute-bourgeois (UHB) kids debate pride and prejudice around debutante circuit in Whit Stillman’s Oscar-nominated debut.

Frederick Wiseman’s four-hour doco about Cali’s most famous campus is a rich and multi-faceted portrait of collegiate life (and bureaucracy behind closed doors).

KICKING & SCREAMING

PERTH FACT ELIZABETH IS NOT THE QUAY TO THE CITY

Flailing arts grads drown their sorrows and pine for simpler times in Noah Baumbach’s witty 1995 debut.

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I Listened To All The So Fresh CDs In One Sitting And This Is How I Felt WORDS BY LAURENT SHERVINGTON ART BY HOLLY JIAN

I’m in a car. Static hits my ear. Static becomes sound and sound becomes Christina Aguilera. Her powerful voice pushes through the scratchy radio of the of the decaying 1989 Nissan Skyline.

It smells like cigarettes. I have easy homework tonight.

I squirm uncomfortably. These are the images conjured up as I begin the first track of my marathon listening session of every So Fresh: The Hits of Summer compilation consecutively in one sitting.

My first breakdown begins as the first few notes of “Take On Me” play. This isn’t a tasteful throwback cover. This isn’t a well produced reworking of the 1984 a-ha smash hit. This is hell. Covered by the short-lived Norwegian/British Boy band A1, the tinny synthesizers and phased arpeggios strike my vulnerable upper chest and I cough abruptly. This continues for the rest of the 4-minute run time and I exhale slowly as the song fades. I am halfway through the first CD of the 2001 edition. I bite my lip and the music continues.

As the barely passable Australian drawl of Frenzal Rhomb takes me to the end of 2001, I get up gingerly and replace the CD with its 2002 follow up. I walk back to my chair and sink.

I look back up and I’m back in my school uniform, this time next to my old gym. I listen out for an sign of where I might be in my childhood and the answer comes swiftly. I glance across at where the girls lockers used to be and I see her. My year 2 girlfriend, Cindy.

I continue cycling through the plethora of po(o)p, resisting incoming memories through sheer concentration and regular tea breaks. I shimmy through 2006, I scurry through 2007, I scrape through 2008 and as I stand up to replace the CD I wince. So Fresh: The Hits of Summer 2009. Oh fuck.

incessantly like a fifteen-year-old left home alone for 45 minutes or longer.

My mind races as I look around, trying to survey my surroundings.

Anyone who went to high school will tell you that Year 9 was a BAD TIME. Like, a significantly more BAD TIME than any other BAD TIME you are likely to experience in your lifetime. I rush to the lounge room, find my way to the family liquor cabinet and make myself a strong whiskey on the rocks. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be’ I say as I trip into the armchair on the way to my room.

Was I too cool for So Fresh in my mid/late teens? The answer is yes, I was too cool

I sit there impatiently. The triple header of P!nk, Britney and Gaga result in no flashbacks. Hey, this might not be so bad, I ponder hopefully. I tap my feet to the oncoming bunch and I even feel relieved enough to note that “I Hate This Part” by The Pussycat Dolls has an interesting string section. “Better leave this out of the article” I chuckle to myself as, unbeknownst to me, my subconscious takes a nosedive.

I look up and am instantly blinded.

“What th-” Knee length socks on my shins tug

Cindy’s by the lockers as she usually was, hanging out with her closest friends Annie and Stacy. I begin to shake as I realise exactly where I am. “Strawberry Kisses” drifts from the lockers like a Chupa Chup that’s been left in the sun too long and turned to vapour. I gulp.

It hits me. I’m at a blue light disco. My

mum is here. Metro Station’s 2009 Platinum hit “Shake It” blares from the community stereo. People are breakdancing. This isn’t happening.

I close my eyes and hope to be whisked away, back my my bed, anywhere but here.

I wake up in hot sweats. Is it over? Nah, I’ve made it through 2009 though.

Thank god. The next few years in the marathon go by without a hitch, perhaps due to a strengthened ability to block out painful memory or perhaps due to my disassociation with pop in the later years of high school. Was I too cool for So Fresh in my mid/late teens? The answer is yes, I was too cool.

Notable hits that broke the barrier were Owl City’s “Fireflies”, Little Red’s “Rock It” and Hot Chelle Rae’s “Tonight Tonight” (surprisingly still quite a jam).

The last few compliations drift by slowly, presumably because of the significantly reduced amount of nostalgia and fewer memory flashbacks. As Taylor Henderson’s forgettable acoustic wank “When You Were Mine” takes the 2015 release out I lay back on my bed, satisfied. It’s over.

As I put the last CD back I think about how for some kid, somewhere out there, 2015 will be their 2009. I continue to snigger as I button up my school uniform.

Still fits, I think to myself as a manic grin forms on my face. Still fits.

Daylight from my window licks me back into shape. I raise my trembling hands to cover it and resume the listen along, “I’ve gotten this far” I mumble to myself unconvincingly.

30

“Lets Drop!.... Yeah!”

PERTH FACT WHERE’S TROY BUSWELL THESE DAYS

PR-Less WORDS BY HARRY MANSON | ART BY DEA DEFENDI

#1.

FISHMANS

Since the start of mass culture, music has filled a role like no other medium. It’s an infinitely versatile form of art that can flow freely and immediately from one individual or many, on any scale and in any situation, but it’s also one of the most exploited parts of big-budget capitalism and celebrity culture. This makes trying to determine some sort of canon for popular music history a task that only gets harder the more work you put in.

History is written by the victors, who in music’s case are major PR firms and the journalism outlets they nurture. As nice as it would be to take for verbatim things like Pitchfork’s best-ofdecade lists (and they are a good access point into pop history and great jams), there’s a dwarfing amount of super interesting, innovative, and yes, accessible music around that hasn’t been recognised simply because barely anyone has pushed or written about it.

With Blackstar putting us on the subject of retroactively haunted career sendoffs, I thought I’d usher in this new bit with a glance at Fishmans’ final outing in their original incarnation: the live album 98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare. If you know about this band already thanks to their growing cult fan base on the internet, you’re probably smirking right now. If you don’t, bear with me, because this album holds some of the most charming pop music ever made with a regular old rock band setup and a sampler.

Fishmans was a Japanese dub turned dream pop band in the 90s, characterized by the bizarre vocals of leader Shinji Sato.

Apart from that, their sound is pretty by the books, wildly fun, nostalgic and genuine, taking no shame in the use of straightforward dopamine-releasing chord progressions, effects and melodies. There is a human simplicity to these songs, unique in their warmth, played with unrivalled discipline and passion at once. The show, recorded in perfect quality, is the band’s last ever - Sato passed away unexpectedly three months later due to heart problems. Remarkably, the songs here feel conclusive even without this knowledge.

The glowing standout part of 98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare is “Long Season”, originally its own album, closing out the

MUSIC

98.12.28 Otokotachi no Wakare (1999)

performance here in a fuller, more driven form next to its studio counterpart. If you only ever listen to one thing from Fishmans, let it be this. It’s a 40 minute journey played faultlessly around a singular rolling keyboard motif. It is the ultimate exercise in pop music pacing, a landscape in which the tropes of funky baselines, flying guitar solos, breakbeat drums and grand vocal harmonies are all juiced and recontextualised into one big profound pool of sound. Pop sensibilities are warped beyond recognition: after a curiously long introduction, a simple song is revealed, building naturally into a triumphant guitar solo around the twelve minute mark. At this point in the song, despite being so danceable, it’s probably too drawn out to be played anywhere resembling a party, and just as that thought crosses your mind it nosedives into a ten minute ambient section full of overwhelming chimes and synth swirls. From here, the unending keyboard line continues to reinvent itself countless times before the final movement is swallowed in what might be the best “drop” ever achieved with a guitar. Whether or not Sato knew his death was impending at the time, his preeminent vocal and guitar performance here makes it seem like he’s undergoing a divine affirmation of his entire livelihood It is both sad and, in a way, pleasing to know that a performance as astonishingly choreographed, as universally readable as Otokotachi no Wakare here has been largely missed by music publications - pleasing in that it’s hard evidence of there being plenty of great music around still to find, hear, and talk about.

PELICAN MIXTAPE 1. Margo Guryan - “Sun” (Take a Picture) 2. Jet - “Shiny Magazine” (Shine On) 3. Warren Zevon - “Sentimental Hygiene” (Sentimental Hygiene) 4. Will Smith - “So Fresh” (Willenium) 5. Kool & the Gang - “Fresh” (Emergency) 6. OutKast - “So Fresh, So Clean” (Stankonia) 7. Glasser - “New Year” (Interiors) 8. Evenings – “Friend [Lover]” (Yore) 9. Balam Acab - “Oh, Why” (Wander/Wonder) 10. Mount Eerie - “The Air in the Morning” (No Flashlight) 11. Jackie O Motherfucker - “Hey! Mr Sky” (Flags of the Sacred Harp) 12. Brian Eno - “The Big Ship” (Another Green World) 13. Eels - “Fresh Feeling” (Souljacker)

PERTH FACT DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN REGULARLY FIND WINNIE BLUES ON THE ROADSIDE? WHAT A SCORE

31

variety too.

Everything on this album produces ambivalence except the the rhythm section. They’re brilliant in every role they perform.

They interlock and pulsate with stunning energy for more straightforward, danceable grooves. When creating complicated foundations, they can be both incendiary and cerebral. Turning attention to the rhythm section is always rewarding if the rest doesn’t hold up.

On Adore Life, Savages shoot for a profound existential narratives centered around love and don’t quite get there.

There’s some clumsiness and filler, but enough good bits to make it mostly enjoyable. If you’re familiar with their daring debut album, Silence Yourself, Adore Life might seem inessential.

SAVAGES, ADORE LIFE (MATADOR)

6/10

REVIEW BY DANYON BURGE

Adore Life is a dark, intense rock album about love as a disease, or a drug. In many of the songs here, Savages present a front-on fight for overcoming all of love’s difficulties. By pushing through intense sadness, they aim to be uplifting. To resolutely ‘adore life’ through this dynamic is an admirable project and it succeeds to a point – but I was left wanting a bit more.

The lyrics on this album mix self-doubt, aggression, and eventual affirmation. The style is made up of about three parts earnest directness and one part poetic vagueness. A lot of phrases are insistently repeated, which suits the driving, visceral music. This is a great formula, but it’s application here is faulty. The directness confers immediate impact, but it turns to shallowness as I try and fail to find deeper meaning where there is none. The attempts at poetry, where alternatively this depth might be found, are noticeably heavy-handed and function on only the most basic level to provide a contrast of obscurity to the surrounding obviousness.

Repeated phrases become redundant and annoying as they lack the poignancy that their repetition implies.

The vocalist, Jehnny Beth, has a rich, distinct voice which lends power to her words, but there’s a sense she’s not meeting her full potential here. Despite her evident talent, she’s oddly contained, bound to musical structure, unable to let loose effectively. The album’s heavier instrumental arrangements and subsequent mixing inaccuracies diminish her natural powers further, as she’s unable to cut through the cacophony.

The all-important guitar closely follows the feelings of the vocalist throughout the album. When Beth is reflective, the guitar permits it by providing distant, mysterious atmospherics. When she is angry, the guitar is distorted and/or menacing. When she triumphs, often at the end of a song, the guitar soars. It’s a consistently harmonious aesthetic alignment, but a bit more dissonance and irony would have suited these songs about tension. It would work just for

32

VANILLA RICE - RICE RICE BABY (PUDDING IT OUT RECORDS) REVIEW BY BEN YAXLEY Swapping his hair gel and glasses for a shirtless bod and a cool pair of Beats™, former childstar Jonathan Lipnicki has possibly created the most divisive album this year in his debut as Vanilla Rice.

Blurring the lines of solipsistic dementia and postironic genius, Rice Rice Baby is a tribute album at heart paying homage to the back catalogue of Vanilla Ice, renewing it with an unexpected twist.

The original Icepenned lyrics- heartfelt songs on fame, partying and frozen water, are taken by Lipnicki and remastered to focus

PERTH FACT ALL THOSE ACTS YOU MISSED AT SOUTHBOUND ARE HERE IN THE PELICAN OFFICE

their attention on one subject only – rice, rice pudding, and the consumption of rice pudding.

5/10

MUSIC

I’ll admit that I had my homework on both Ice (the artist) and Rice (the genre of food) to appreciate the subtle humour on RRB - a record with an ostentatiously high quotient of Exclusive Jestivity.

For example, the title of 1990 single “I Love You” is changed to “I Love Yoplait”, a homage to the manufacturer of Australian lunchbox staple Le Rice. 1998’s nu-metal navelgazer “Too Cold” keeps its title, yet becomes a very different beast. Lipnicki disregards the original lyrics entirely to give a spoken word anecdote on the time he suffered a nasty brain-freeze from eating a “tub of frozen risotto”. Yet perhaps the weirdest track on the record is a take on the 2008 instrumental “Smooth Interlude II”. The song is kept more or less the same, but given a tonne of warbled echo and distortion effects to supposedly provoke a physical response from the listener.

Lipnicki describes the sensation- “It is as though you are sitting at the bottom of a deep pool, filled with hot, steaming rice... milk... butter? and submerged in the warm glug you hear the faint sound, sound of a beat boxing man... perhaps your uncle, yet perhaps not... the rice pudding soaks into your pores, slowly infiltrating your body... and as you notice the smooth interlude begin to end you feel your mind now at rest, one in the rice... you know you are whole, a whole in the white primordial sludge...” (liner notes, pg. 3). There are two bonus tracks also, original compositions by Lipnicki. “Fuck You Stuart You Short Blonde Rat” is a poignant diss track, vocalizing Lipnicki’s feelings of resentment for the infamous cartoon rodent (search up the George Little Scandal of 2008). The other one, worryingly titled “Vanilla Ice, Shithead” feels uncalled for and rather rude, considering the amount of creative debt owed to the rapper. Here Lipnicki attempts to distance himself from Ice, calling him out on his failures and flaws, telling us he is “not like Ice”.

Yet the only thing we gain from this is the realization of just how similar Ice and Lipnicki really are- two mid-road careerists coming to terms with their past glories and shame, taking measures to reinvent themselves in ways often misguided- Ice with his shortlived home improvement show and work with the juggalos; Lipnicki with his defunct slim wallet business, xrated adult coloring book, and now this... a weird concept album of rice-related Vanilla Ice cover songs, not even good ones.

MUSIC

And really, did anyone ever ask for this? A whole album of Vanilla Ice covers is already a bad idea, but fusing this with a concept album about rice seems just...unnecessary. And for those who find the one-note rice/ice joke amusing, I should warn you that there is the obvious “Ice Ice Baby” nowhere to be found. Even Lipnicki knows it is taboo to sample a Bowie bass track post 11/1/16. While the song’s absence will inevitably disappoint anybody who is not a, uh, ‘Ice Head’, hardcore fans will be pleased to revisit the dozen other standouts of the Ice discography, and I can imagine RRB being an excellent entry point to the man’s work.

RTR’S DISTANT MURMURS 2016 REVIEW BY HARRY MANSON

January 16th saw RTR solidify a now annual small-scale music festival that deserves to become a Perth summer staple. The mission statement with Distant Murmurs is to find and round up the most exciting new local musicians and let them discharge their art across three stages spread around a lovably busy-not-packed Rosemount Hotel. They totally succeeded.

The bill was so loaded that I only managed to see a sliver of the performers, but rest assured, I was on my feet for a good few hours during the night and each turn I took there was something wild going on. My prior expectations lay only with the past Pelican kin in Mining Tax (they were well and truly met), but some unexpected personal highlights included guttural doom lords Alzabo, whose singular half-hour riff had me utterly transported for a good ten minutes after walking in, and Kitchen People, who play familiar garage punk with a staggering barrage of unique kinetic colour.

Achieving a proper mosh and crowdsurfs in the tiny confines of the 459 Bar was a sight to behold.

If, like me, you felt a bit disenfranchised to find the now dominant Laneway Festival moving away from their trademark “up and coming artists” philosophy in their lineup this year, then I would suggest you direct your attention to next year’s Distant Murmurs.

We’re lucky to have it.

PERTH FACT BASSENDEAN TOWN COUNCIL IS LOOKING AT THE FEASIBILITY OF THROWING THEIR ROLF HARRIS PLAQUE INTO A VOLCANO

33

i

iii

thru the bodies I can only see

let them write the

the lead singer’s feet

blank page blues for me

the vocals are the most important

flex the muscle

given up on the perfect voicebox

rip the cord and let the

“it’s good to be back,” they say

engine snarl at itself

small number of bodies

can’t tuck in a corner

and machines like snakes,

can’t hide in the couches

pulled talons on pedals,

or fold away unstrummed,

a nest of leads hatching something

face frontal snare won’t be told

we’re in a sort of granny flat, I guess

so it’s

or garage

stuttering feedback

strung up under blankets on the roof

silence

half of us know the other half

reflections in eyeglasses

and the ones with bare feet are the best iv

I realise I can see a red plastic cup tucked behind the hi-hat, too

pass the beer no words dressed in red

the walls are red brick and swollen

this bass drum is getting me going this lantern-lit shit is my kind of story

ii half of it’s jokes (whole song jokes) bc you can’t keep your cool with your soul bare the blonde one did it before, I think no-one really knew what to do at least when he screamed you couldn’t hear what he was saying it was probably important could have been v uncomfortable

everyone in knits that belonged to old fucks with their joints and haircuts and jeans and haggard voices bones in feet rebound tips of fingers are jagged there are ropes that can’t hold us down there are storms somewhere but here there are boards and bricks and rugs and human beings, and a low whistle as the song ends

WORDS BY MATT NORMAN

34

HOW TO KEEP BOOKS FRESH THE KEEPING OF A CLASSIC WORDS BY BRYCE NEWTON ART BY BEN YAXLEY

1) USE GLAD WRAP AND STORE IN REFRIGERATOR Glad wrap has been proven (life experience or otherwise) to keep things fresh in fridge environments. Tomato halves, unused avocado, over a plate of chicken hopefully still safe for consumption. Much like food, books are something that can be imbibed or eaten (I say this as a simile and do not endorse or encourage the act of attempting to eat or drink a book unless you personally make that decision with prior research as to whether it would be

Storing your favourite novels in the fridge will ensure that they stay crisp and at an optimum temperature for hot days safe). Storing your favourite novels in the fridge will ensure that they stay crisp and at an optimum temperature for hot days (do not try this technique in cooler months),

the glad wrap will hopefully ensure that any in fridge disasters are averted (do not store books around containers of canned beetroot which are prone to spilling).

Actually maybe this isn’t a good idea after all unless you choose to honour the book by investing in it’s own “books-only” fridge – “no food allowed”. Alternatively leave air con on and hit up gumtree.com for second job to care for the needs of your novel life partner.

Try with: 90s economical cookbooks. If you don’t have one of these on your top five books list get your eyes on one fast. In no time you’ll want to have a family to feed questionably economical recipes beating the budget with nifty tips and tricks. If anything this book may need a little bit of help to stay fresh anyway. If possible, keep in fruit and vegetable drawer for optimum results.

2) KEEP BOOK IN FRESH THREADS Ensuring that novels are at the top of their fashion game will ensure that they can transcend being out of fashion (technically, when adorned with garments the book will be in fashion – literally). Perhaps your book has it’s own sense of style and will choose to wear vintage in a clothes blog worthy way. If so, allow them to pursue their dream and achieve and maintain adequate followers on Instagram. Remember, your treasured novel has been inhabiting a book shelf or gathering dust on your bedside table for some time and may have developed other wants as opposed to just being read. Whilst it may seem like a good idea to put your book in matching outfits it will likely result in embarrassment for the book and strain your relationship. Another facet of fresh threads for novels to consider is that novels will almost always need tailored clothing to suit their shape.

Try with: Any Kurt Vonnegut novel.

Preferably Galapagos – Vonnegut’s commentary on the human psyche is timeless and the novel will wear clothing with an effortless grace. Take advantage of the books preference for classic cuts and good tailoring which will stand the test of time.

3) PLAN SURPRISES, KEEP THAT RELATIONSHIP THRIVING Keep reaching for your favourite novel when you feel like it? That doesn’t seem like a mutual relationship but rather a late night/early morning/midday book call. Like any relationship, it is important to keep things fresh and show that you appreciate the other individual. Plan surprises for your novel, from something small like the odd chocolate or something extravagant like embroidering a bookmark with a heartfelt saying. If you feel the time is ready a piece of your hair in a heart shaped locket is a great casual way to say remember me. A surprise party is another way to put sparks back into your interactions and allow the favoured novel to socialise with other people (who are unsure why they are at the party) and other books. From personal experience I would advise against cooking a steak dinner because books have very small appetites, if any. Unless you can eat two steak dinners.

Try with: Any Harry Potter novel, flip knows there aren’t any surprises in that relationship, especially not the fact you’re reading it again.

BOOKS

Classic books have always been dear to my heart; like old pals that pop over when I periodically feel the need to include them on my publicised top five books list (when self promotional opportunities arise) or when reaching for something to read when you accidentally bought a book you no longer want to share eye-page contact with and need to displace your regret. Classic books, which I will now re-brand as “favourite books” (to cater to subjective choices) work hard in the effort to exist, in turn giving book-loving people artefacts from which to build the empire of their identity. It is clear we need to give something back. Unlike books, our mere existence can do little for their prolonged freshness and vibrancy. I have attached a list of ways to ensure your favourite novel can stay at peak crispness, allowing you to give something back to an interactive object that has stood by your side through thick and thin; year round and life long.

Utilising any of these suggestions will facilitate a better relationship with your best book, your best bud. At first, they may seem ungrateful. Perhaps you’ve taken the wrong route, perhaps that’s the only emotion that they are capable of expressing. Looking after your favourite novel will ensure a prosperous relationship that sees it happily being read periodically and still producing the reading experience you were after and wanted all along in world of books which can let you down.

If all else fails buy a best friend (or more desirably best book) necklace and hope for the best. If successful, your favourite read will never have felt fresher and everything will be as perfect as the first time you got to know each other.

PERTH FACT NO ONE CARES HOW MUCH JACK KEROUAC SPEAKS TO YOU

35

BOOK REVIEWS RAIN MUSIC

SLADE HOUSE

DI MORRISSEY

DAVID MITCHELL

3/5

5/5

It was a pleasure reading Di Morrissey’s Rain Music, which announces in its subtitle “before you face the future, first you must face the past.” This theme of self-confrontation is a recurring one in Australian literature, no doubt deeply embedded in our cultural anxiety regarding the dispossession of Indigenous inhabitants

by European invaders. The cover consists of a plain background, with ambiguous trees conveniently filling in the spaces that are not occupied by words. Clearly, this image is functional but not aesthetically contrived to reflect the specific content of the story.

Di Morrissey is an accomplished storyteller, but not an outstanding one. The story she tells seems hastily put together and as if it has yet to undergo subsequent re-writings. At times she uses too many words to describe her characters and situations – telling everything that is going on in the mind of the main protagonist, Bella, and leaving no room for secrecy. As Bella’s conflicting thoughts are revealed to readers, the voice of the novel becomes predictable and boring. It kills the sharp taste of excitement a reader would otherwise experience as they turn the page; propelled by the momentum of curiosity to explore the psychology of the protagonist who at best remains as an enigma to readers.

Nonetheless, Di Morrissey has successfully interwoven her description of the desolate landscape in the Northern Territory to reflect a ravaged and depleted Indigenous Australian culture as it has been destroyed by modernity. This is coupled with passages celebrating the immense beauty of natural artefacts within the Australian bush, typically regarded as dangerous and unappealing to the average city-dweller. Di Morrissey presents a truthful account of Australia, whose hidden gems can only be uncovered if we are willing to confront our past. Through its final plot twist and absorbing language, this novel will entice both Australian and international readers into the forays of the land’s fraught history.

Recommended reading snack: sultanas/ something coarse or nutty.

Carin Chan is wearing bow ties this summer and strongly believes that someone who hasn’t read a single page of Australian literature would benefit most from reading this book.

36

Hark! Fellow Reader – your first solid piece of reading this year may be this very magazine, resting gently in your hands – well get a good hard grip on those edges, because I’m about to tell you the next book you need to buy this year.

Slade House is the latest book David Mitchell has blessed us with.

I’ll be honest – I’ve read him once before and am already a raging fan. He’s kept the magic alive this time around with a perfectly paced supernatural mystery.

As per his typical modus operandi (yes – I’ve also experienced Cloud Atlas so I’ve got a relative feel for Dave’s style here) there are five main characters from whose point of view the story unfolds.

This is largely where (and how) the true magic of David Mitchell happens. Plot aside, I trust that Mr Mitchell has done time as a 13-year-old boy, a middle-aged English copper, a chubby college fresher, her older journalist sister and an immortality obsessed 116-year-old. At the very least, he has a firm understanding of the deep inner machinations of their minds.

The story, despite being fantastical and obviously describing scenes you truly have to invest a good amount of thought into so as to conjure for yourself, flows so naturally you rarely remember you’re reading a book because you’re too busy consuming the story and avidly turning pages to remember it ISN’T your life, you AREN’T romancing a rich widower, and you DON’T have a girlfriend called Avril waiting for you to text back. Such is the melancholic beauty that comes from first person P.O.V. Before we go our separate ways, I must mention that this book is about vampiric soul sucking telepathic twins that want to live forever.

Recommended reading snack: a bag of high quality clinkers – the good stuff.

Jade Newton thinks a lot about dog noses and how similar the texture resembles that seen on bus seat handles.

PERTH FACT TIM WINTON ISN’T YOUR FAVOURITE AUTHOR, TRUST US

CAREER OF EVIL ROBERT GALBRAITH 3/5 At first glance Career of Evil, by Robert Galbraith, doesn’t look anything too special – just a small silhouette disappearing into an ominous sepia-toned background. It promises a solitary hero, standing distinct from the bright streets, a stain; a shadow in contrast to the innocent warmth of daily life. It’s quite an archetypal cover for a noir-detective novel like this. If you look closely you can even make out the long camel coat of the aptly-violently-named detective: Cormoran Strike.

The novel follows Strike as he tries to solve his clients’ cases while trying to unravel and understand his rock-groupie mother’s past – hence the Blue Oyster Cult reference in the title (his mother had a tattoo of the same lyric). There’s also the more pressing matter of the amputated leg he’s delivered and the search for its owner through a colourful cast of suspects and past enemies; of which includes a man known for cutting off his opponents’ penises.

If you’re into well-written, clean and precise fiction, this book probably isn’t for you. However, if you are in for an up-and-down, race-about story with a smattering of gags and comedic relief then I’d definitely pick up a copy! Rowling’s departure from YA literature might be a bit overstuffed, but it carries her trademark plot twists and talent for modern allegory. A Rowling by any other name is still as good.

Recommended reading snack: bulk fancy cheeses on Jatz.

Caz Stafford really loves pulp fiction and bulk fancy cheeses.

1.

The yellow swirl of a rainbow paddle-pop, with all artificially-coloured estuaries leading to my sickly satiation 2. Issue five of ‘Baltics Comics Magazine’, theme ‘After Snowfall’, as bought for $6.50 in a subterranean cluster of shops in the Melbourne metro. I enjoyed most the page 13 comic by Latvian artist Martin Zutis, which told of the tumble of a fridge in the night down some stairs, and how it became in the morning a “beautiful snail” from its water-trail of melt 3. A Facebook message that caused renewed pain 4. Vanilla Ice’s Wikipedia entry. I hadn’t realized his last name was Van Winkle. I feel evolved as a human after learning this

BOOKS

This is the third novel in the Cormoran Strike series by Galbraith, which interestingly is the alter ego of the creator of the world’s favourite wizarding world – JK Rowling. Perhaps it is Rowling’s history of writing for a younger demographic that gives this story a conventional heavy noir feel and a slightly “campy” vibe.

KATE PRENDERGAST

5. News of my death on the cold lacquer of a rock lobster’s shell, fresh-dipped and glistening a slime-less obsidian blue, poised for who knows at the edge of a silverskinned pool near Coogee 6. A gorgeous Buzzcuts review of Fringe World Cabaret show A Little Bit Too Much Information as submitted to me by a year 11 student called Peri 7. “THERE IS NO GOD”, as arranged in the seeds of a watermelon, as viewed on my laptop, as arranged by Mitchell and Webb for their self-titled comedy sketch show, as watched by me for the billionth time 8. Marlon James’ A Brief History of Seven Killings, 2015 Booker Prize winner. His first novel, John Crow’s Devil, was rejected 78 times by publishers 9. Wildly wrong auto-captions for Clickhole’s ‘Inspiring!

People Describe The First Time They Drank Gatorade’ YouTube video. “Bitter Gabriel” is Google’s “better Gatorade”

PERTH FACT ACCORDING TO LOCAL SUPERSTITION, FINDING ONE THONG UPTURNED AND ANOTHER UPRIGHT NEXT TO A STOP SIGN GETS YOU A VISIT FROM WARNIE 37

TAKING ON PERTH IMAGES BY BEWLEY SHAYLOR FORM PROJECT MANAGERS REBECCA CLARKSON AND RHIANNA PEZZANITI SPOKE WITH SAMUEL J. COX ABOUT “BUILDING A STATE OF CREATIVITY.”

In April this year, FORM’s Festival of Urban Art and Ideas- titled ‘PUBLIC’- will return, extending to include The Goods Shed, PUBLIC Platform and PUBLIC Campus. We spoke with Project Managers Rebecca Clarkson and Rhianna Pezzaniti about FORM’s mission to continue “building a state of creativity.”

A later incarnation of Craft West, once the peak body in the state for craft practitioners (‘craft’ meaning 3-D artwork of any medium… not knitting), FORM “uses creativity as a lens to examine, and develop innovative solutions to, city-wide challenges. These aren’t necessarily things that are ‘wrong’ with society, but things that simply exist because we are humans living in a city. These challenges include social housing problems, boring, poorly designed public spaces and under utilized areas that have very strong stories that we want to disrupt. It can even just be about engaging more people with culture, creativity and design thinking,” Clarkson says.

The independent, non-profit arts organisation is based out of a Murray Street head-office with a staff of twenty, and satellite bodies in the Pilbara and Northam. Established in 1968, a series of intangible, behind-the-scenes successes have been recently complemented by FORM bursting into the public consciousness with the launch of its multi-year festival PUBLIC in 2014.

Managed by Pezzaniti, the festival is responsible for the highly visible, brightly coloured large scale murals that have enlivened over one hundred and forty specific walls or sites in Western Australia. It has also impacted sixteen communities – from Victoria Park to Leederville, Northam to South Headland. She and her team select and contract artists, work with the different site locations and arrange council approvals and permissions.

“PUBLIC looks at how we can use creativity for a public good.

Taking art to the street to encourage broader audiences, and examining how to use the artistic process and creative thinking to tackle some challenges the city has faced,” Pezzaniti says.

Just as we’ve used street murals as an engagement tool for non-traditional arts audiences, Platform is about using digital and three-dimensional installations in the same way

Clarkson is part of the management team of Platform, a ‘social experiment’ and new addition to the PUBLIC program in its third year. From April 1-3, to coincide with The Goods Shed opening, Claremont’s Bayview Terrace area will host pop-up place activation and installation prototypes.

“Just as we’ve used street murals as an engagement tool for non-

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traditional arts audiences, Platform is about using digital and three-dimensional installations in the same way. We’ve openly invited anyone familiar with design-thinking and place making to come forward and activate the public realm. We’ve also targeted design houses around Perth and particular organisations that we’d like to see submissions from,” Clarkson says. “The teams that make it through the selection process will receive seed funding to assist in the production and fabrication costs of their installation prototype.”

Western Australia’s first ever prototyping festival, across two days, PUBLIC Platform is about providing a ‘big bang’ to launch The Goods Shed. Envisaged as a hub for commissions, exhibitions and installations, for artist and thinker residencies, the new Claremont facility is a response to the lack of cultural resources and the decreasing participation in cultural activities in the area.

It is also seen as the answer to the questions raised at PUBLIC 2015’s symposium – “are we livable? are we engaging? do we keep people here?” Pezzaniti suggests “there’s a need to liven up some of the underutilized places and spaces in Claremont, so it seemed like a good place to test out these new ideas.”

Platform was conceived because of what Clarkson and Pezzaniti describe as reticence to citizen-led intervention in Perth. “We want to remove the red tape and the bureaucracy that stops people playing around with public space, and encourage and demonstrate how people can take responsibility for the places they live in. We’re giving people access to one of the last heritage remnants in Perth, and asking ‘what would you do about it?’ Not, what would the local council or state government do about it, but what would you do about it?” challenges Clarkson.

A graduate of environmental science and sustainable development, Pezzaniti found her start with FORM as an intern studying cities and innovation. Clarkson, who has a background in local government, started around the same period. “I spent some time working with the City of Fremantle and the City of Melbourne. Both councils have done great work activating spaces and building cities that feel very organic when they are actually designed solutions. Through this, I’ve been aware of FORM’s work for 8 or 9 years, and really believe this organisation has been a game changer for Perth. We wouldn’t be where we are today as a city without their efforts, especially the work in 2008 - 2010. We’ve had a hand in the refurbishments of the Perth airport, the huge developments around town and in the changes to WA’s liquor licensing laws – all small things that add up to create a city where there is so much more going on.”

In 2000, current Director Lynda Dorrington came on board and led the team in a new direction. Pezzaniti observes, “We’ve become an organisation that is not just about visual arts any more. We’ve widened our scope and morphed into a beast that also looks at community development, urban planning and design and placemaking.”

PERTH FACT AIOLI IS JUST MIDDLE-CLASS SALTY MAYONNAISE

PUBLIC 2016 Festival of Urban Art and Ideas runs April 1-10 at venues across Bentley and Claremont, across Curtin University for ‘PUBLIC Campus’ and in the Wheatbelt for the transformation of more yet-to-be-announced silos.

Clarkson concurs. “While I only became directly involved with FORM 3 years ago, I think there were 2 big programs that really changed our direction and how we defined creativity. The Designing Futures Program (2001), which looked at creating a really strong design industry in Perth, and Creative Capital, where people like Charles Landry, Al Gore and Richard Florida were brought over for ‘Thought Leadership’- extended thinker and residence programs. These people were working in the spaces of cities and city building, and asked ‘what can you do to make this place the best it can be?’”

“The way we work is very different to other organisations. Our hugely diverse team includes anthropologists, writers, community developers, artists, scientists and designers. We’re like a Matrix, because we can very quickly form cross-disciplinary teams to implement and manage new opportunities.”

Claiming an entrepreneurial approach to sourcing funding, Clarkson says FORM is only 5% government funded, “which is very unusual for a peak body and state based organisation. We derive some income through public art consultancy, working with property developers and state government to conceive and build public art commissions.” The rest comes from major partners, mainly BHP Billiton, donors and crowd-funding.

“The intention of PUBLIC’s mural program was that it would professionalize the industry, and that has really happened.

We’re constantly contacted by people wanting their own walls transformed. There’s more opportunities for artists because of programs like ours pushing the boundaries and normalising the practice,” says Clarkson.

With the estimated attendance in 2015 at 45-50,000 punters, and two accolades at the Design Institute of Australia WA Design Awards, the state-wide project has encouraged audiences in Perth inner city, urban neighbourhoods and wider WA regions to engage with and question their familiar surroundings in new ways.

While 2016 marks a reduction in the scale of their programming, the organisation is going for more depth. The large scale murals will be concentrated at Curtin University (at least UWA has Subway and Boost – thanks Liberty!), and there will be fewer artists participating, though Pezzaniti promises big name artists.

In contrast to the prominent 2015 Symposium, this year it’ll be scaled-down, with fewer speakers at events staged across the year to “extend the conversation,” Clarkson says.

Focused upon and deeply rooted in Perth, there is no intention to look East beyond getting its Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander art studio, Spinifex Hill, represented to “really open the market for those artists.

We are a uniquely West Australian organisation and know the conditions best here. There’s still much more work to be done,” the project managers conclude.

PERTH FACT YOU CAN NOW BUY WA IRON ORE ON GUMTREE

ARTS

Rather than investing solely in West Australian talent, the organisation is responsible for bringing droves of international artists to Perth. In its first year, fifty artists painted forty walls and buildings in WA. In its second, FORM facilitated the transformation of another seventy walls in neighbourhoods across the state. Local artists, such as Perth hero Stormie Mills and the now Melbourne based Timothy Rollin, had the opportunity to work alongside international heavyweights, including the Belgian ROA and the Argentinian Jaz. Investing in this soft infrastructure has formed networks that allows practitioners to expand their reach.

Pezzaniti hopes to one-day lure the artists Blu and Escif to the festival because the beauty of their work is partnered with “some very significant opinions and meanings that would challenge Perth,” while she’s eying up the old Mines and Petroleum building at the end of Adelaide Terrace and the big Western Power building on Wellington Street as future sites.

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OLIVIA TARTAGLIA

‘Stale Kale’ is a side project by Olivia Tartaglia, a Perth artist working primarily in paint, pen and pencil, whose works draw inspiration from a multitude of fantastical realms, paying homage 70s scifi concept art, classic biological illustrations and fledgling animated cinema. Much of their work explores the relationships between the Embryos and Sea Slugs, extraterrestrial creations penned in an experimentation and exploration of xenobiological identity. Olivia is currently working on new concepts within the mediums of sculpture, textiles and installation/performative works.

Check out more of her work on her Instagram: Stale_kale

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Art reviews WORDS BY CARIN CHAN

‘(DELETED SCENES) FROM AN UNTOUCHED LANDSCAPE #6’ (2013) - JAMES TYLOR

…AND MEANWHILE BACK ON EARTH THE BLOOMS CONTINUE TO FLOURISH’ (2013) - BRIAN ROBINSON

Resistance at the Art Gallery of Western Australia(AGWA) presents a varied array of artworks by contemporary Indigenous artists – both Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander – ranging in different styles, content and medium. Unlike any other art forms, the striking features of a visual artwork can immediately arrest a viewer’s attention at the first cursory glance. Transfixed by wonder, we are lulled into the inner world of the artist who paints the canvas with his or her own unique impressions.

As I walked past the various artworks in the exhibition, there were some familiar Indigenous paintings whose colourful patterns I recognised as having been reproduced in Australian souvenir products. With a proper description on a metal plate beside each artwork – whose artist is officially acknowledged in large print – the exhibition has successfully worked to redress the anonymity of Indigenous faces in a predominantly white Australian culture.

We Bury Our Own by Christian Thompson owes its profound message to the artist’s mixed Indigenous/British heritage.

Photographed portraits of the artist in formal attire with flowers, candles and other objects covering his facial features evoke an eerie atmosphere of death, as if we are looking into the coffin of a deceased person. It undoubtedly suggests that the Australian society which rejects Thompson as a person of mixed race must ultimately reject its predominantly English heritage. Another notable artwork is The Darwin Room by Christopher Pease that presents an image of a snake caged upon a high pillar, whose alienation from its natural environment is highlighted in its sepia tones. It subverts the Eurocentrism of scientific progress belied under an advanced civilization, whose influence is believed to be able to domesticate an entire race of Indigenous Australians. Its surreal illustration and strong political message is reminiscent of Shaun Tan’s works.

The silent film Poles Apart by R E A is the apotheosis of Indigenous cultural consciousness within the exhibition. It showcases an Indigenous woman dressed in a black Victorian gown (thereby masquerading as a well-bred English woman) who is fleeing from an apparent threat generated by a supposedly white audience. As a person of Asian heritage, I am obviously not the target audience of this short film, but I cringe at the absurdity of blue, white and red paint (which represents the Federation flag of this nation and subsequent “integration” of its Indigenous inhabitants) splayed mercilessly at the actress to cover her fraudulent impersonation.

Oh, the irony! What does she have to feel ashamed of? It is us who have illogically imposed the assimilation of Indigenous Australians that represent a living symbiotic relationship with the natural environment. This is when it dawns upon the viewers that we are the imposters ourselves. It is us, the invaders, who have to question the legitimacy of our presence in this land, and not the Indigenous people. Furthermore, the fact that this exhibition strategically begun in January and continues through to February – thus including Australia (Massacre) Day – insinuates the need for some soul-searching. Our murky cultural heritage speaks volumes about national pride. No wonder we have a cultural cringe.

PERTH FACT IN AN IRONIC TWIST, TRANPERTH GRAFFITI HAS NOW SOLD FOR OVER $1000 AT SEVERAL ART AUCTIONS

ARTS

As with any minority groups in a country, Indigenous people are forced to stay silent, but Resistance challenges unspoken social norms through its vivid artworks. An installation piece by Fiona Foley visually depicts the cultural fragments of the Indigenous Australian diaspora. It presents the word ‘DISPERSED’ in block letters, each separated by a character spacing in order to create an imposing presence. Its grim, metallic appearance, enhanced by the sharp, unforgiving angles of the letters highlight the veracious accounts of cruelty experienced by Indigenous people depicted in other artworks.

JOHN BULUN BULUN’ (1989) – LIN ONUS

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a TOOTHPASTE ROADTEST WITH CAZ & NATHAN Which toothpaste has got your back? Which deserves your dental dominion? A brief but comprehensive inquisition in to which toothpaste will wash away the detritus of your hectic life and get your mouth fresh to death. Meet your brushing bandits:

NAME: Nathan

NAME: Caz

REGIMEN: Twice a day (morning and night), three times if it’s a special occasion.

REGIMEN: Twice a day (morning whilst in shower, and night), typically before meals.

TOOTHBRUSH: Pink Colgate Flexi with tongue bristles (soft).

TOOTHBRUSH: Violet Coles band (medium).

SQUEEZE ACTION: Squeezes from the middle (prepared to reform).

SQUEEZE ACTION: Squeezes from the end.

THE CONTENDERS COLGATE ADVANCED WHITENING: Nathan

GRANTS - MILD MINT WITH ALOE VERA: Caz

For white teeth so healthy they shine!

Australia’s original herbal and mineral fluoride-free natural toothpaste!

TASTE: For me, the defining toothpaste. It tastes to expectation; clinical.

MOUTH-FEEL: Impactful (tongue tingles). Lets you know it’s here for business.

FRESHNESS: Had me at micro-cleaning crystals. A high degree of mint: leaves a frosty breeze across the dents.

JUICE TEST: Somewhat palatable, highlights the pineapple.

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TASTE: Oh whoah, this tastes so plant-ee? You can really taste the aloe, but not the mint.

MOUTH-FEEL: Best feeling mouth yet – not too sharp, wellrounded and gentle froth.

FRESHNESS: Mouth tastes like plants – not fresh as you would think.

FINAL COMMENTS: A predictably proper tooth care unit.

If you’re content to be bored by your mouth care product, shoot for this.

JUICE TEST: Wow, no real reaction at all. Grant’s cracked it!

7.5/10

6/10

FINAL COMMENTS: Not particularly like tooth paste when you’re brushing, more like using artisanal soap. Feel virtuous and clean.

PERTH FACT BUNBURY RESIDENTS MARK TERRITORY WITH MUSK GLANDS

MACLEANS SENSITIVE – FRESH MINT: Caz Relieves the pain of sensitive teeth!

TASTE: Very sweet, reminiscent of a candy cane? No definitive test.

COLGATE JUNIOR (DORA THE EXPLORER) – SPARKLING MINT: Nathan Makes fighting cavities fun!

TASTE: Yum. Diminished satisfaction post-spit, however.

MOUTH-FEEL: Sharp, pepperminty, smooths teeth nicely, very inoffensive.

MOUTH-FEEL: Big time foam factor. A comfortable oral companion.

FRESHNESS: Surprisingly bland and gummy aftertaste.

Definitely not the freshest.

FRESHNESS: A firm, but kickless mint. Not sustained after mouth evacuation.

JUICE TEST: Unpleasant, sour, but not the worst!

JUICE TEST: Acrid disgusting nightmare.

FINAL COMMENTS: Overly sweet and not as refreshing as I like my toothpaste usually. Bit boring really.

FINAL COMMENTS: What seems like a zesty adventure turns out to be a temporary, hollow sham. Gutted.

4/10

5/10

COLGATE WISP – PEPPERMINT: Nathan

COLES TOTAL CARE: Caz

Single use – brush on the go!

Toothpaste with fluoride!

TASTE: Dead insects.

TASTE: Holy heck! Strong, really strong and bracingly minty.

MOUTH-FEEL: Like applying violin resin with a boot polish brush.

MOUTH-FEEL: Teeth not smooth, lots of tongue residue.

FRESHNESS: Remarkably fair! Tough to achieve the desired distribution, but what is covered lingers.

JUICE TEST: Putrid, acidic and cringe worthy.

JUICE TEST: Pairs well, a welcome relief.

FINAL COMMENTS: Maybe outside a solitary, nightshrouded roadhouse. Shiv end poked my finger. You can do better.

FRESHNESS: So Fresh Hits of 2007. Hurts to breathe.

FINAL COMMENTS: Dark horse home brand came through.

Will brush again.

8/10

4.5/10

HOMEMADE – NATURAL PEPPERMINT: Nathan and Caz Healthy grit-filled mason jar alternative!

TASTE: C: Literally all I can taste is oil.

N: It’s bad, it’s really bad!

MOUTH-FEEL: C: Oh god it hurts!

N: Burns quite a lot. A gritty catastrophe. Ultimately produced a very numb roof of mouth.

FRESHNESS: C: Did I mention the oil?

N: This isn’t fresh.

JUICE TEST: C: A welcome break from that unpleasantness.

N: Creates a Berocca-like sensation. Quite distinguished and appreciable!

C: 2/10 || N: 1.5/10

PERTH FACT GIVING A DOG NANGS WILL GIVE ITS BARK A DEEP AND HUSKY TIMBRE

LIFESTYLE

FINAL COMMENTS: C: If I wasn’t expecting toothpaste taste then maybe? Or I was really, really broke.

N: Nah. Everything smelt like coconut oil and I felt ill. A potent, tropical ravaging of my person.

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FOOD COLUMN

uncle joe’s mess hall 74-76 King Street, Perth

Food................................4.5 Coffee...............................5 Déco..................................4

WORDS BY PREMA ARASU

Right behind Uncle Joe’s Barber (the best place to get a zero fade on King Street) is the Mess Hall, a notoriously on-point and on-trend brunch spot.

The Modern Australian menu changes seasonally, with a breakfast menu starting early and lunch starting at 12pm.

I can immediately tell that this place is cool because on the menu is an acai bowl ($17). It’s like a smoothie with crunchy toasted oats – an energising, light breakfast for a hot day. It comes with fresh dragonfruit, passionfruit and blueberries. This dish is worth ordering simply because it’s really good, regardless of whether or not eating “superfoods” makes you feel better about yourself as a person. The avocado, feta and brocollini on toasted ciabatta ($20) is a welcome update on the ubiquitous avocado smash seen at café strips Perth-wide. The avocado is perfectly ripe and combined with just the right amount of lemon. The feta is delicious but complimentary rather than overpowering. The Wagyu cheeseburger ($20) is one of the best burgers I’ve had in Perth because the patty comes rare, and I’m a strong believer for respecting your meat. It comes with cheese, pickle and shoestring fries on the side.

Cakes are not made in-house but are delivered each morning and vary day-to-day. The cinnamon bun with ice cream ($12) has that wonderfully freshly-baked feel to it. There is also a variety of

rolls and wraps as well as lunches by local health food company NOOD. Coconuts and other hipster drinks like kombucha and rooibos are available in the fridge, but since I’ve never tried kombucha that didn’t taste like gastric reflux I’d recommend ordering a house-made drink. The Frenchie smoothie ($9.5) is a blend of fresh seasonal fruit with well-balanced sweetness and acidity.

The citron presse ($8) is an unapologetically unsweetened lemonade and comes in a jar (of course).

Baristas at Uncle Joe’s are serious about coffee and extremely attractive. If you’re in the city and are looking for takeaway, it’s worth the walk to King Street for reliably perfect coffee. Beans are from Dimattina, which are also for sale; however, there are plans regarding an in-house roaster, which is exciting.

My one complaint is the lack of natural lighting inside which is sad since everything is so Instagramworthy. The décor is unpretentious, with upcycled furniture and succulents everywhere. The Mess Hall itself is partly a renovated old King Street building plus part of a basketball court, and retains a few of the elements from its history.

Uncle Joe’s great location and fantastic food and coffee ensures that it will remain one of my goto brunch spots for a long time. Eventually I may even figure out who Uncle Joe is.

REVIEW: WAR AND PEACE TV has inarguably gotten more complex over the last ten years. Programs now routinely follow a large cast of characters, and demand much more focus from their audiences then they used to. And once audiences became suitably adapted, it’s understandable that someone might try to have another shot at the king; Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace. Based off of the famously ill-read novel, discussions of which usually include: “Oh yeah I’ve read it, I really liked the bits with the um, conflict, and of course the eventual peace.”

Costumed, set, and scored impeccably, this

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new adaptation isn’t as insane an idea as it first sounds. Crewed by able British actors (Paul Dano, of Little Miss Sunshine fame as Pierre, and Lily James, a Downton Abbey veteran as Natasha), with an excellent part saved for Gillian Anderson. Paul Dano is a particularly apt Pierre, with all the naivety and awkwardness that the role requires, whilst also inspiring in me the “Oh god Pierre’s gonna be fucked over” feeling that the book did such a good job of instilling.

The story is of course, vastly reduced. The adaptation leaves out Tolstoy’s philosophy and comments on the study of history,

and focuses on the plot. But luckily, it’s an interesting plot. This adaptation isn’t perfect (the battle scenes in particular leave much to be desired), and the dialogue, as well as the complexities of the characters have been predictably dumbed-down for TV audiences. But unfortunately, it’s about as good as any we’ll get. At the very least, this program will be very useful to those who want to pretend they have read War and Peace, now we just have to wait for the animated version of Finnegan’s Wake.

4/5

PERTH FACT BY 2050, EVERY SECOND HOUSE WILL BE A GRILL’D

REVIEW BY CHADLEY GRIFFIN

BAD SHOW

BORDERTOWN are pretty spectacular. Particular mention goes to the comforting voice of Hank Azaria, doing his best ‘not-quite Comic Book Guy’ voice for Bud.

Mark Hentemann FOX Bordertown is a new animated show from creator of Family Guy, Seth Macfarlane and longtime colleague, Mark Hentemann.

Deviating ever so slightly from his (admittedly very profitable) formula, the show focuses on two neighbouring families – one of Mexican immigrants, the other, a simulacrum of modern American values. The dynamic between the two families mirrors the tensions in the larger town ‘Mexifornia’ set on the Mexico-US border.

Technically, the show is well-executed. Animation quality is smooth, and the characters move with a lifelike quality I hadn’t been expecting. The animation style is more ‘cartoony’ than we are used to (one main character ‘Bud Buckwald’ is constantly engaged in a Wile E. Coyote-style competition with notorious people smuggler ‘The Coyote’), and the performances from voice actors

But this dip into satire is way above Macfarlane’s pay-grade. The writing constantly falls back on cutaway gags and non-sequiturs, jokes miss overwhelmingly more than they hit, and the whole experience is crass and poorly thought-out. The content of the jokes is either deeply repetitive, attacking every character’s political beliefs (both Bud’s right wing immigrant hate and his step-son JC’s liberal college student beliefs are both mocked near-constantly, and not with much originality), or cringe-inducing, where the butt of the joke is just “Ha, other cultures are weird.” Since this is a Macfarlane/Hentemann production, there is also a lot of ‘edgy’ humour, plenty of fart jokes, abortion jokes, one Phillip Seymour Hoffman joke that was way too soon for me emotionally, and a delightful running Alien probe/rape joke. Great job writing staff.

This stab at relevance, or at least a more three-dimensional viewing experience is a step in the right direction; but at this point, I think we’d all prefer it if Macfarlane and Hentemann stopped altogether.

Overall, a good show to stare at, stony faced, if you’re punishing yourself for some kind of cosmic crime.

REVIEW BY THOMAS ROSSITER

GOOD SHOW

F IS FOR FAMILY presumably because the 70s didn’t quite have the same level “PC culture” to make fun of. Burr also voices the main character Frank Murphy – struggling family man, Korean War veteran and airline worker.

F Is for Family is a Netflix animated series about a working class Massachusetts family set in the 70s. This first season runs a little short – only six episodes long – and takes a bit of time to get into. The first episode in particular is a bit rough. The humour is reminiscent of King of the Hill, but more on the crude side, with a lot of throwaway jokes like Netflix’s other cartoon Bojack Horseman.

If you enjoyed Bojack, then this is definitely worth watching.

A lot of great jokes pop up through the whole thing, and the show benefits from the period setting. There’s a campy show-withinthe-show about a classic hyper-masculine spy named Colt Luger, and a joke about TV scheduling back in the pre-digital era when you either saw a show or missed it forever. Frank’s much more successful neighbour, Vic, is a moustachioed, cocaine-fuelled radio DJ who brags about his new 32-inch *colour* TV.

The show plays with suburban blue-collar frustration, and is loosely based on stand-up comic and showrunner Bill Burr’s own childhood growing up. Burr’s stand-up is known for being ranty and “anti-PC”, but these elements don’t make it into the show –

Make use of your *colour* laptops: with a first season of only half a dozen 30 minute episodes, F Is for Family is well worth the time to watch it.

Bill Burr, Michael Price NETFLIX

PERTH FACT PERTH’S ROADKILL BECOMES TEXAS’ JERKY

LIFESTYLE

“If I started building walls today and didn’t stop for the next ten years, there still wouldn’t be enough of ‘em to fuckin’ put you through.”

The trajectory of Frank’s life is captured in the show’s opening sequence, where we see a teenaged Frank leave high school flying into the clouds to be immediately hit with a draft notice, a beer gut and a mostly unplanned family. Control of Frank’s life has been pretty much out of his hands, and this is the main justification for his constant state of rage. The first season shows Frank balancing a chaotic family life with his work, where he struggles in the midst of an airline contract dispute on the verge of a strike. Most of his family, bar the youngest daughter, are well fleshed-out through the series as they deal with suburban restlessness.

REVIEW BY SKEVOS KARPATHAKIS

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The Sports Club wishes it still had a place in UWA magazine. The UWA student base wishes it still looked this good.

From 1971, Vol. 41, No. (who knows)

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